I'm Begging For Mercy Part One
by Momma-Ran
Summary: Craig and Tweek meet by chance and quickly bond over bruises. But one day Tweek doesn't come to school. And Craig's world shatters. Then he meets someone else, someone he never suspected he would ever get with. Someone he forgot existed.
1. Pills Weren't Popped

There is an unsettling feeling moving throughout my house like toxic smoke my house that makes me unwrap myself from my cocoon of blankets and listen at the keyhole in my door. I'm on my knees in my boxers listening for some sound of normalcy but hear none. That was my first clue to quickly scramble away from the door and tug on some clothes that I randomly grab off the floor. I'm putting my shoes on when my door opens. "Its time to wake-" My mother stops mid sentence when she sees me balancing in the middle of the room with one shoe on and the other in my hand.

She tilts her head to the side and her beautiful hair sweeps over her face for a moment before she brushes it back. Somehow the action is threatening and my eyes go wider. All that I needed to know is in that simple action. Mom didn't take her pills today. She also didn't have a shot of Bailey's in her morning tea or a cigarette to calm her racing mind. "You're already up, sweetheart."

Its not said with any malice but I feel a shudder wrack my stick-figure thin body. Her gorgeous eyes are sparkling with a madness that I've seen in the mirror on countless occasions. "Didn't you sleep well?" she asks me as a concerned frown turns her lips downwards. The truth is that I don't sleep at all but she worries if I tell her that so I usually tell her that I got a few hours. By a few I mean a maximum of two and that's on a good night.

"I did." We both know I'm lying but she doesn't call me on it because she suffers from the same thing. Or she used to. "I have a test today, so I wanted to get to school early and try to study some." Its not really a lie; I _do _have a test in Literature but that isn't until last hour. And I'm just not going to study for it.

With slow movements I put my other shoe on all the way and drop my foot to the floor. As I'm standing up straight mom's head tilts in the other direction. "Oh, but I made you breakfast." I want to groan but I don't dare to. "Blueberry pancakes." _Never_ eat my mother's blueberry pancakes.

Its not that they aren't good, its just that they are usually spiked with poison. For some reason its only the blueberry ones. Oh, the blueberry pancakes and the apple pies. Just stay away from them. Except that I never actually stay away from them. "O-okay; but I can only eat a little because I have to get to school."

Mom's eyes light up with both her usual motherly glow and the glittering madness. Reluctantly I take the extended hand and let mom lead me out of my room and down the hall. Strings of incomprehensible noises comes from my mouth and only gets louder as we reach the stairs. One moment I'm holding my mother's hand and the next I'm falling – painfully – down the stairs. I flip over a few times; hit my head on every other step and the wall and the railing; and land painfully on my right wrist. My landing is actually what hurts the most and I look at my wrist in horror.

Is it supposed to look like that? "Mom!" I cry out for help rather than accusing her. "Mom, my – nngh! - my wrist is...!" When I try to move it, pain rockets up my arm all the way down to my toes. Unlike me with my ungraceful fall down the stairs, my mother seems to glide down as though she has invisible wings that allow her to float.

She kneels beside me and some of the madness has dimmed from her eyes. "Oh Tweek, baby, you have to be careful." As if she didn't just push me down the stairs. But I don't say that because if I did she would cry and I love my mother too much to intentionally make her cry. I am a strong believer that there is nothing worse than making your own mother cry. "Do you want to stay home today?"

In spite of the pain I shakily stand up. "N-No. I have to take the test mom." I so desperately want to be a son she can be proud of; so I'll endure the pain. "Besides I think its just a sprain." I say even though its obviously not.

Mom helps me to the breakfast table where a steaming hot plate of blueberry pancakes is waiting for me. I sit down, pick up a fork, and begin to shovel the poison into my mouth. And people wonder why I, Tweek Tweak, am paranoid of everyone and everything. If you didn't know any better you wouldn't know that there was poison in these innocent-looking pancakes, but I know that there is and even though I know that I eat them every time. Mom sits down opposite me and watches me eat with mad adoration in her eyes.

I notice that her hands are shaking slightly but then again so are mine. So many of my problems and tics I've inherited from her. But we don't ever talk about it or openly discuss that there is something wrong with us; dad doesn't say anything either even though some of my issues he's responsible for. They are great parents, really, even with the abuse from my mother and the neglect from my father. Its not really their fault that they got such a fucked up son. It seems I've inherited all of their problems combined - and maybe even more - and it causes them a great deal of stress and unhappiness so I take it all silently as punishment for ruining their lives with my existence.

"I should go mom." I say slowly as I scoot back my chair. Mom stands up before I do and gives me a smile that is a tiny bit more insane than sane. I walk over to her and give her a one-armed hug that I hope tells her how much I love her. Then I grab my backpack from my room and leave. Its fucking cold outside but the pain in my wrist is a burning, sharp, throbbing pain that is actually keeping me quite warm.

I walk the short distance to school, feeling nauseous all the way from both the pain and the spiked pancakes. When I get there I don't even stop to say hi to Kenny McCormick and instead go straight to the bathroom on the second floor in the corner. Its the bathroom that's farthest away from everything else and is hardly ever used except by people who want to get away for a class period. In the bathroom I go to the last stall, drop to my knees in front of the toilet, and puke my guts out. Into the cold disgusting toilet bowl I heave the contents of my stomach. I'm like this for a good five or ten minutes until nothing but stomach acid comes up.

Trying not to look at my own sickness in that germ infested porcelain ass bowl I flush the toilet. When I come out of the stall I see a tall noirette standing staring at me openly with a blank expression. I don't remember seeing him in here when I came in but I hadn't really been paying much attention because I needed to get the poison out of my body as quickly as possible. Ignoring him as best I can, I go to the sink and start to rinse out my mouth and wash my face. "If you're that sick you should stay the fuck home."

"If you get me sick I'm going to beat your skinny ass." Great to know this asshole cares. I roll my eyes even as my hands start to shake more violently. It gets to the point where I fling soap at the mirror because my damn traitorous hands jerked randomly. The sharp movement reminds me that my goddamn wrist is broken – I had temporarily forgotten while I was puking my organs out. I let out a frustrated groan and lightly hit the mirror with the side of my good fist.

My eyes find Craig in the mirror and I get even angrier because he's just standing there with his music blaring in his ears and his hands shoved in his pockets. What an asshole! I bet he doesn't give a flying fuck about anyone. He's going to die an old wrinkly lonely dickhead. Out of spite I reply, "I bet you'd like – gah! - 'beating my skinny ass'."

His eyes – which I can't tell what color they are because they look almost black and why the fuck do I care anyways? - narrow dangerously. I am so not in the mood for some lame-ass Craig Tucker threats or ass beatings of any kind. "Look, I'm not in the mood for this – nngh! - so kick my ass later or something okay? Today sucks and mom didn't take her pills and my wrist is broken and I hurt everywhere and my mouth tastes like goddamn puke. So kindly fuck off, Craig." Normally I wouldn't be that outspoken but today has just sucked balls so bad and its only six in the morning.

Craig's expression doesn't change at all. "Like I said, why bother fucking coming to school?" Wasn't the hint about my mother enough? Is his skull that thick? My blood boils and I can't see straight. I march right up to Craig.

And scream in his face, "BECAUSE MY MOM PUSHED ME DOWN THE FUCKING STAIRS AND POISONED MY GODDAMN PANCAKES THIS MORNING SO EXCUSE ME IF HOME IS THE LAST PLACE I WANT TO BE RIGHT NOW!" That seems to have gotten it all out of me because the next second I'm covering my mouth with my hands and yelping at the stab of pain in my wrist. Tears spring to my eyes and before I can stop myself I'm crying on Craig's jacket. I just told someone about my mom's abuse and when Craig tells on us they are going to take her away from me. I love my mom and I need her and she isn't always bad so I don't ever want to lose her.

Throughout the years I've had a reputation of being klutz, but its not an accident. I gave myself that reputation to cover up the abuse. Any injury on me everyone thinks is of my own doing. I lie to protect her. She couldn't handle prison or a loony bin. "Oh Jesus, d-don't tell anyone!"

I look at him and can't really see for the tears in my eyes. "Please don't tell anyone." I can't believe I'm begging; begging Craig motherfucking Tucker at that. But I'm so scared that they will take her away. The thought brings about a fresh wave of tears. If not for Craig's lack of answer so far I would curl up in a ball and scream and probably tear out my hair too.

"God, you're such a pussy Tweek." Craig finally says. I would point out that I just screamed in his face, made fun of his sexuality, and told him to fuck off all in the span of five minutes but I really want him to keep my secret. Tensely I wait, unable to keep the pathetic fucking hopeful look off my face. "Fine. Whatever."

I hug him. Hard. And groan when I move my wrist. "_Fuck_." I realize that his entire body has gone stiff. I actually think he's holding his breath.

Before either of us can say anything or even move out of this weird one-sided embrace, Kenny opens the door. "Tweek! The fuck happened, dude?" I haven't told Kenny about being abused but Kenny has a sixth sense when it comes to, well, fuck, _everything. _Kenny analyzes the situation in a matter of seconds. "Tweeek, why are you hugging Tucker, I thought you were _my_ boyfriend?"

Its an on-going joke that he's my boyfriend but really he does the joke with just about everyone. Except a select few like Craig and those guys. I roll my eyes but play along. "Its not what it looks like, Ken, I just puked my guts out and Craig was concerned about my welfare so he gave me a – ack! - 'get better' hug."

"Funny, Craig doesn't seem to be the one doing the hugging." Kenny observes with a smile. "Stiff as a board," The blonde comments and then suddenly bursts into a giggle fit. It doesn't take a genius to get the sexual innuendo. Craig is glowering and shoves me away roughly.

I land on my ass with a pained sound. "Oh _fuck my life_." I growl out. My best glare is completely lost on Craig. "What the fuck you goddamn cock-sucking asshole?" From the corner of my eye I see a flash of orange.

Suddenly Craig is up against the wall and Kenny has his fists curled into the front of his shirt. Both of them have bared teeth like dogs about to fight. I scramble to my feet and try to pull Kenny away but my wrist protests loudly. So I have to settle for a whiny "Knock it off!" Predictably they ignore me.

"Don't you fucking dare hurt Tweek ever again or you'll live to regret it, Tucker!" Kenny is snarling. Their faces are a few inches apart. A good and bad thing about the blonde is that he is extremely protective of his friends and fiercely loyal. I tug on my hair, feeling more stressed out by the second. Neither of them notice.

Craig is bristling and buries his own fists in Kenny's parka. "What would I want with that little shit?" The words kind of sting but I expected nothing less from this asshole noirette. "Besides, its his fault for getting all fucking touchy." I can't deny that. However, it was just because I was so relieved that he said he would keep my secret.

Now that my tears have pretty much vanished I notice something I hadn't before because Craig's longish dark hair was in the way. "Whats that?" I ask out of the blue. My eyes are drawn to it and when Craig glances at me I can tell he knows what I'm staring at. "Kenny, its fine, go do something else." The blonde opens his mouth to protest but I shut him up with a pleading look.

The blonde growls at Craig – literally growls – and then stalks off. I know he hasn't gone far; not when he thinks I may still be in danger. "What – gah! - happened?" I ask directly. Mostly, my cowardice stops me from asking something more along the lines of 'who fucked up your face?' Craig gives me an icy glare that freezes the blood in my veins.

"None of your goddamn business." So he isn't denying its there, which surprises me a little. Craig doesn't seem like someone who would acknowledge any imperfections like the dark bruise on his jaw. I raise an eyebrow. He just gave me the classic 'my parent did it' answer. Which isn't an answer but a blow off.

"Was it your dad?" Because I don't peg Mrs. Tucker as being one who beats the shit out of her son. Not like my mom. Who is somewhat more creative than just beating me to a pulp. Nope, she'll more likely push me off the roof or smash a vase over my head or light me on fire. Except that last one would really ruin the carpet.

"I said _its none of your goddamn business._" There isn't an insult tacked onto that so I assume that this is more serious than I thought. "I don't ask you where all your bruises come from." Not that Craig has to anymore. Since Tweek spilt the beans. Fuck.

"Quit being a pussy and – nngh - tell me." Craig is looking at me like I'm an alien or I sprouted two heads. Or, quite possible, I'm a two headed alien. I run my fingers on either side of my neck and shoulders just to check and am relieved that I haven't grown a second head. I know why he's looking at me like that. Its because everyone thinks that Tweek Tweak is a fragile little pussy.

Well, I'm not. The only reason I pretend is for my mom. If they thought I was anything other than a bitch then they would begin to suspect the injuries that spice my body. The only reason they don't suspect Craig of being abused is because he actively gets into fights. As for Kenny, well, everyone is too used to it to care much. And Butters wears makeup to cover any unfortunate bruises.

"Fine." The word is growled out like its painful for him to say. "My dad and I got in a fight. Its nothing unusual." Craig Tucker is a badass and is a fantastic fighter – I would know – and not many people land hits on him. The last time I saw a bruise like that on Craig was when we fought in third grade.

"What did you – gah! - fight about?" I ask curiously. I dig around in my black messenger bag for some mouth wash because God my mouth tastes awful and I can't stand it anymore. When I find it – spearmint flavored with alcohol in it – I pour some into the cap and swish it around my mouth while waiting for an answer. Honestly, I'm kind of surprised that Craig is still here. After spitting the liquid out I breath a sigh of relief.

The mouthwash goes back in my bag. "I'm gay." I drop the pack of gum I had just gotten out. My eyes are drawn to Craig like magnets. "My dad and I don't see eye-to-eye about it." Its like seeing the noirette in a whole new light.

Before I thought of Craig as straight or even asexual but never gay. Gay means that I have a chance with him. Since there actually aren't as many gays in South Park as people are led to believe, who else is he going to get with? Mostly its just straight guys acting gay which pisses the hell out of me. Let me make this clear, the thought of being Craig's boyfriend _just now_ popped int my head. Like I said, I'm seeing him in a whole new light and that light is sexual as fuck.

He's glaring at me again so I drop my eyes to my gum on the floor. Do I really want to pick that up? No. Not really. God all the fucking germs. "That's cool, about being gay."

I tell him. Craig's eyes look like they are trying to figure out if I'm serious or not. With a roll of my eyes I explain, "I'm gay too, dude." Deciding to abandon the gum on the floor – leaving it to whoever wants it; GROSS! - I dig through the messenger bag again and pull out a pack of American Spirits. The smoke alarm in here has long since been disabled so I don't worry much about lighting up.

"Let me have one of those." Its not a question, exactly, but it is at the same time. I hand him one and let him use the lighter. It looks like we might be ditching first hour, which is Trig for me so I don't care because I'm passing with flying colors. "I thought you broke your wrist." Again with the not question-question.

I take a drag and almost moan as the sweet nicotine fills my lungs. Smoking, sex, and art are my most favorite things in the world. They calm me down on both the outside and inside like nothing else can and so I try to fill my days with them. Mostly its just art and smoking, once in a few weeks I'll get lucky. "Yeah, but – argh! - I'm used to injuries." I've broken fingers and toes and once mom ran over my foot with the car.

Don't even ask how that happened because its a pain in the ass and I'm still kind of uncomfortable knowing that I let my mother drive her car over my foot. It pretty much fucked my foot up entirely gets me out of gym class. Thank fucking god. Craig is looking at me again, I can feel the heat of his gaze on the side of my head. Hopefully I don't catch on fire. "What?"

Craig inhales deeply. I find myself wondering if he smokes weed. Weed is one of the smoking things that calms me down to a level like normal people. "You don't even care that you get hurt do you?" His voice holds something that almost sounds like amazement but is too flat to actually reach the point of emotion. I don't even have to consider the answer.

"Of course I do. I fucking hate pain, even a little bit." Which doesn't explain shit. "But I – gah! - love my mom." And it takes a true man to say that out loud and not just imply it through vague sentences. I don't know what guys have against mothers, since they are the ones who fucking brought them into the world.

Craig digests this and I can actually see the wheels turning as he tries to imagine what that would be like. I'm under the impression that even with his mom things are tense in the Tucker family. Since I know the feeling I feel a bit of sympathy. Fighting my dad? I would probably beat him to a pulp and not because he wouldn't fight back because he would. I may be an unhealthy-looking beanpole but I'm a fucking strong beanpole.

My cigarette is gone too soon and I throw the butt in the trash. A while later Craig's follows suit. I'm content for the moment but I hate public restrooms and I've spent too much time in here already and my wrist hurts like a bitch. Once again I'm going through my black bag until my hands close around the familiar bottle of stolen Valium. Stolen from my mother, of course, because she feeds my addictions even though I'm almost sure she doesn't know I've been taking them. Actually, she feeds all of my addictions right down to the coffee one.

I take it dry since I don't have any liquids on me since my thermos was forgotten in the rush to get out the door and the ordered chaos that came before it. "Is that a Valium?" I nod. "Can I have one?" Craig sure is a mooch. I shake my head because it took forever to get these and he doesn't need them.

"I w-worked hard for these – nngh! - and you don't need them. We need to get to c-class anyways." I reply. I adjust my messenger bag and glance in the mirror. Oh sweet Jesus I'm wearing a Death Note shirt to school. Now these idiots will think I'm even more of a freak.

I leave the bathroom without a backwards glance at Craig Tucker. Halfway down the hallway I hear the bathroom door open and turn. There's the noirette, hands shoved into his pockets again and head bobbing to whatever shit is on his iPod. He doesn't notice me so I keep going, wondering what to do about my wrist. Kenny will flip out and I'm surprised he didn't notice it in the bathroom. What will I tell them happened this time?

As predicted Kenny is at the bottom of the stairs waiting for me. His magnetic glacier blue eyes zero in on me as soon as I'm in sight. "What happened?" Its useless checking me over for wounds since its near impossible to tell the origins of my bruises so Kenny settles with resting his hands on my shoulders. I give a half shrug because I'm under the impression Craig wants to keep his family problems a secret. "Are you hurt...more?"

I shake my head then brush my wild blonde hair from my face. "We – nngh! - talked and smoked." Kenny drops his hands and I give a small sigh of relief because I hate being touched. Ironic since sex is one of my favorite past times. We start walking to second hour since first hour is almost over. "Would you set my wrist?"

The attractive blonde frowns at me. "What happened?" I don't know why he bothers asking that when he knows I lie to him. He veers me over to his locker which is more like a pharmacy/first aid kit combined and doesn't actually hold anything school related in it. I lean against the lockers beside it while he twists in his combination. My wrist _hurts_ and even though I told Craig I'm used to it, I'm not.

I just have a high pain tolerance. "I fell down the stairs." When lying, its best to stick as close to the truth as possible. Kenny gingerly takes my wrist in his hand and I hiss from the pain that shoots around my body. He gives me an apologetic glance that turns to something more serious when his attention returns to my broken wrist. "Whats the news, doc?"

"I can't believe you're keeping your cool with this. The break is clean, I think, so I should be able to snap it back into place and wrap it up." Kenny bites his lip. "But its not going to be strong like a plaster cast or anything. If you want that shit, you have to go to the hospital." His blue eyes meet my yellow-green ones.

His voice is low when he says my name, "Tweek," Oh shit, this is his serious voice. "I know hospitals scare you, but if this heals wrong they will have to re-break it otherwise bad shit will happen." I wonder what he means and its probably written on my face because he adds, "You won't be able to use it." I can't stop the quiet gasp that passes my lips.

I won't be able to use my left hand? My entire body starts shaking with fear. "B-but I _need _my left hand!" I use my hands all the time, both of them, and having one gone would be awful! However, I really can't go to the hospital. Even though kids are routinely in Hells Pass hospital, there is always a wonder if its child abuse.

Kenny chuckles as he takes my hand and forearm in both his hands. With a fluid movement the blonde snaps my bone back into place. A scream rips itself from my throat and I slump against the lockers. "Tweek?" He asks, kneeling down in front of me. I shake my head and pant but can't seem to form any words.

After I catch my breath and the pain ebbs, Kenny starts bandaging my wrist. "You owe me big time." I tell him, knowing that he will know what I mean. The blonde chuckles and pauses bandaging me up to lower his hood then resumes. I watch the tan colored bandage go around and around my wrist, then around my thumb and once more around my wrist before securing it with a silver safety pin. His blue eyes meet mine again and this time hold a familiar sparkle.

"Not right – ack!- now!" I say quickly as he starts to lean in. Kenny is physical. He kisses, hugs, holds hands, and lays across people. Mostly it doesn't mean anything. Even sex with him doesn't mean a lot.

However, Kenny did go from being a whore to having sex with only people he likes. So I guess it means _something_. The blonde lets out a dramatic sigh which has me rolling my eyes. "Okay, okay. Lets get to 2D." He helps me up and slams his locker shut.

The sound echos throughout the hallways and I give a paranoid glance around before deeming the sound unnoticed. 2D stands for 2D Design, which isn't a computer class. Its a drawing class. I know, the name is really misleading. But we both have fun in it so its okay. Then again, we tend to like things like this.

Actually, Kenny likes everything but wood shop, for reasons I don't know. Mostly he takes classes like track, home EC, art. I like art classes. They calm me down. But I already told you that. Anyways, we arrive at 2D just as the bell signaling the end of first hour rings.

We grab our portfolios and go to our desks, which are sitting beside each other. I pull out my most recent project; a faceless nude bust of a noirette. Its sketchy and only half shaded but I like it. Kenny leans over to look at it and sighs. "Dude, you're so fucking awesome." I don't say anything because I don't think I'm all that awesome.

My wild pale blonde hair won't stay down; my fingers are covered in bandages and smell like cigarettes and coffee; my weird yellow-green eyes are too wide; I can't stop shaking or making awkward noises; my frame is thinner than a tweaker's; I'm usually on some substance in an attempt to be normal; I jump at my own shadow. Really, I could go on forever about all the things _wrong_ with me. But I'll leave it at that because I'm getting a little depressed. The blonde senses my mood and plants a quick kiss on my cheek. "Really, you're one of the best artists in the school." He goes on and on singing my praise and I just give him a half smile without really listening.

Instead I pick up my pencil and get to work on finishing the shading. I use the fingers on my left hand to smudge the shading and make it look nicer. The more detail I add to the drawing – which includes adding a face - the more it starts to resemble a noirette I ran into this morning. Sure enough the next time Kenny looks over he asks in a shocked voice, "Are you drawing _Craig Tucker_?" My face turns a light shade of pink at his question.

"Not on purpose!" I protest and frown at the naked bust on the paper which clearly resembles Craig; at least his facial features do. "Gah! What if he sees it? He's going to t-think I'm a-a weird stalker! I've never even s-seen him without a – nngh! - shirt on!"

Kenny bursts out laughing. The loud noise draws unwanted attention from some of the people in the room. I groan and thunk my head onto the desk. "Ow." I say it so apathetically that I almost sound like Craig, minus the nasally voice. God I hate his voice; it grates against my nerves.

As if I need anything else to grate against my already frayed nerve-endings. "So whats with the bruise?" Bruise? Oh god, did Kenny notice? I discretely try to find whatever bruise I have showing but can't find it. "On Craig's cheek?"

Oh. "He got in a fight." I reply, thinking that this is what he would tell everyone else who asked. Then I realize that Kenny was probably talking about the bruise on the drawing Craig's cheek. Oh great, now I'm thinking of my artwork as Craig. To distract myself I look over at Kenny's drawing.

The blonde is sinfully attractive, has a gorgeous singing voice, is a good fuck, is in great shape, and cook so well that its like an orgasm in your mouth. However, when it comes to drawing Kenny sucks. A lot. "Are those supposed to be boobs?" I hate boobs. They are so squishy and just _gross._

I much prefer the hard but smooth bodies of males with subtle dips and curves to the outrageously flabby and disproportionate squishy bodies of women. Just thinking of it makes my skin crawl and stomach turn. Kenny gives me a _duh_ look. "Well not all of us can be as good as you, Tweek." His tone is teasing as he outlines the boobs again. I don't bother telling him that's not how you're supposed to draw them because I kind of suck at drawing girls too.

The rest of the class period is passed like this. We split up for third hour and meet again at the smoking spot across the street from the school for lunch. I guess you could say that Kenny is my best friend. I get to the wall first and light up an American Spirit. Unless I have nothing else at all I don't smoke the cheap shit.

The Goth kids seem to be ditching today, which is good because I can't stand to be around them. And for some reason Kenny despises them, which makes me really not like them. When I see Craig walking across the street in my direction I'm kind of surprised. Then I remember he smokes and feel more than a little dumb. Craig leans against the wall a good ten feet away from me and stares out across the street. He already has a cigarette hanging from between his teeth.

I've bitten cigarettes in half doing that so I try not to do that anymore. His earbuds are in his ears and I can hear Apocalyptica blaring. Jesus Christ, he's going to go deaf! My eyes are drawn to him and I find myself mentally comparing him to my drawing. Surprisingly I'm pretty spot on. Except for a darker bruise, smaller nose, and more angular jawline I have Craig down pat.

It makes me wonder whats under his shirt. I mean, did I get it right? Even though I hadn't been trying to draw him? While the face is accurate now that I've decided its going to be Craig – when did I decide this? - I want my drawing to be as accurate as possible. "Why are you staring at me?" Craig's voice cuts into my thoughts and I give a start.

"What?" I ask dumbly before processing his question. My face colors itself pink. "I-I'm not staring at you!" Well that was really convincing, Tweek. We stare at each other; wild crazy eyes and dead apathetic ones.

Its around then that I realize Craig's eye color is as unique as mine. His eyes are the pale silver color of clouds on a stormy day, tinted with dark blue around the edges. Mine are a woven pattern of green and gold, which isn't as attractive as it sounds. And right now his eyes go colder than ice. "Dude, you're totally eye fucking me." He points out.

I open my mouth and close it again. I guess I was undressing him with my eyes...but I wasn't having any sexual thoughts! But now that he's said it...My eyes find him again with the intent to eye fuck the hell out of him. Craig doesn't shift uncomfortably under my owl like stare as my large eyes wander up and down his body, mentally undressing him.

The mental images that pop into my head are kind of nice so I look away before something really embarrassing happens. Kenny never shows up for lunch and Craig lets the subject of me fucking him with my eyes drop. We smoke cigarette after cigarette until the bell rings then head to our shared class. All three of my afternoon classes I have with Craig. Funny how I never noticed before. Then again I never had to notice.

The remainder of the school day passes uneventfully. I ace the Lit test just like I thought I would. At least mom will be happy with that. Mom. I hope she's okay. And dad too.

I take the bus home, wishing it didn't go so slow. On mom's 'sick' days I try to stay in the house as much as possible even though its dangerous for me to. If I leave she freaks out even worse. When I open the door to my house its quiet except for the sound of water running and the soft clank of dishes. I find dad in the kitchen.

He looks like he's going to fall over. I start to dry the dishes for him. "Good afternoon, son." Dad greets me. He looks so drained. I wonder if he went to work today.

"Hey dad." I mutter. We stand in silence. After no less than three minutes I break it. "Where's – nngh! - mom?" He hands me another dish.

"She's taking a nap. Its been a rough day." Our voices sound normal. You would think we were having a normal conversation. Really, I had asked him if mom was okay and he told me she wasn't any better but at least she was asleep. "I finished the rest of your blueberry pancakes."

No wonder dad doesn't look very well. Immediately I feel guilty. I should have finished the pancakes because mom hates it when food doesn't get eaten so dad usually eats it for me. Since I can't think of anything to say I remain silent. When we finish with the dishes a few minutes later dad brews us some coffee.

I fill up my forgotten thermos from this morning and escape to my room. Once there I lay on my bed and sip coffee. I don't sleep. My mind is racing a million miles a minute. My thoughts bounce between my mother and Craig Tucker faster than a bullet. I wonder if he's fighting with his dad again.


	2. Sketchy Beginnings

It turns out that Craig did fight with his dad again. I notice it because of how he's not moving. He's holding an arm over his stomach as though it will make whatever pain he's feeling go away. Anyone who comes to close gets snarled at. It must have been a bad fight; usually Craig just gives them a glare that freezes blood. And no, I'm not watching him from across the hall; okay, yes I am.

Jesus Christ, I'm a stalker! I reach up to tug at my hair and let out a distressed whine. No one really bothers to look at me. They have heard all of this before. Unfortunately I'm loud enough to make Craig look over at me. Before I can run away he makes a beckoning motion with his hand.

I'm torn between wanting to run for my life and wondering what the consequences for ignoring Craig Tucker are. So I go over to him, slowly, hoping that the bell will ring. But it doesn't and I make it to Craig without incident. "Lemme have a smoke." He says bluntly. Not even a greeting first!

No 'hi Tweek, how insane was your mother last night; didn't get beaten up too bad did you'? Gah! I glare at him but really my glare has nothing on his and we both know it. "Fuck y-you." I growl out. Something about being around Craig must make me a little suicidal because normally I'm not this brave.

He raises a smooth black eyebrow. Just one. I've always been a little jealous of people who can do that. Craig seems to be considering something. "Fine. But you'll owe me a whole pack."

Say what? "Huh?" I blink, confused. Craig would sell himself for a pack of American Spirit? Holy fuck, Craig is a whore! "YOU'RE A WHORE!"

After that embarrassing out burst – which has drawn attention to us – I cover my mouth with both hands. Craig looks angry. Its not that his expression has changed, its his eyes. The apathetic clouds have been replaced by furious ocean waves. "D-DON'T K-KILL ME! I'M – GAH! -TOO YOUNG TO D-DIE!"

Now people are really staring at us. They're wondering what freaky Tweek and asshole Craig are doing together when they've never hung out before. I'm wondering too. But more importantly I'm begging Craig to not kill me. My mom would die if I did...at least I like to think she would be that sad because then I'll know she really loves me. Of course she loves me.

Probably. But I don't dwell on this train of thought because Craig has grabbed my right wrist and is dragging me through the hallways. "Oh god! You're taking me somewhere – ack! - to kill me a-aren't you? I don't want to die! I'm - nngh! - sorry!"

It takes me all of four minutes to realize that he's dragging me up the stairs to the bathroom we visited yesterday. Stan Marsh is there with his pants down and dick hanging out. I shriek because I think they are going to rape me and cover my eyes, but peek out between my fingers. "Don't r-r-rape me! Nngh, I'm sorry!" I plead but it seems to have no effect on them.

Well, I can't see Stan's expression because he's turned away from us. Craig throws me towards the back wall and I stumble onto the filthy ground. "Out. Now." I hear him bark at Stan before forcibly removing Stan from the bathroom. The click of a lock has me screaming at the top of my lungs.

My mother is one thing. I love her and her bad days don't come around as often as mine do so I can't really be mad without being a totally hypocrite. My mother also doesn't bum cigarettes off me or drag me to the bathroom, push me down, and try to rape me. Wait a sec, Craig isn't raping me. "Shut up." Craig demands.

He walks over, looking very intimidating, and plops down beside me. The noir leans against the wall and lets out a sigh. "Give me a fucking cigarette. I'll pay you back later." I lower my hands and stare at him quietly. So...he isn't going to rape me?

Well that's anti-climatic. Literally. And I push that thought from my mind as best I can. "Fuck that!" I spit out. "I don't smoke - gah! - cheap ass cigarettes like everyone else at t-this f-fucking school!"

Maybe they should put me on antidepressants as well. Oh shut up, what do you know? Great now I'm talking to myself in my head. At least its not out loud... "Will you shut up," Craig snaps, "And give me fucking cigarette."

How does he make a question sound like a statement? "I-If I give in you'll just want – nngh! - more!" I say without thinking. Craig doesn't say anything. He leans his head back with a small thunk. I notice that his hands are shaking very slightly, so slightly that if I hadn't been staring at them I wouldn't have noticed.

"Are you addicted to cigarettes?" I ask, incredulous that Craig Tucker would ever be addicted to anything. I can't even see him as a sex addict. Then again, until yesterday Craig was asexual to me. Or straight, but I regard that as the same thing. The glare he shoots me is answer enough.

"My dad flushed mine last night." I bet that didn't go over well. Come to think of it, what led up to the flushing of Craig's cigarettes? Was it Craig's sexuality again? Craig rests his head in his hands and he just looks so _itired/i_ that I want to hug him. So I do, lightly draping my arms around him.

He doesn't shake me off. But he gives me this noise that sounds somewhat like a growl. Wow, that's creepy. And kind of sexy too. "Do you think you could do that with my dick in your mouth?" I think to myself.

His head snaps up, startling me into letting him go. "_What_?" My eyes widen when I realize I said that out loud. And I scramble away from him, towards the door, but he catches me by the ankle. I can't help the scream of horror that comes out. Craig pulls me between his legs and covers my mouth with his hand.

I bite his fingers and wiggle to escape. To my surprise he bites me back. On my shoulder, through my clothes. And it has this weird electric feeling growing around my stomach area. Oh yes, I am aware of what it is, I'm just surprised that its there because of a bite. Then again, no one has ever bitten me before.

I slump back against him and a soft moan rises to my lips but I swallow it down. My hands move without any conscious thought on my part to expose my shoulder. "Bite." I demand in a voice that's beginning to sound a tad bit needy. Craig's teeth barely graze my flesh. It doesn't add to that great feeling nearly as much as the other bite had.

"Give me a cigarette." Craig purrs against my skin. Oh damn, he's good. I think about it. Its just _one_ cigarette and I _really_ want this feeling to escalate. Finally I nod consent.

Craig's teeth press hard and I can't stop the moan that slips past my lips. Some part of me says that it will get better the more pressure applied. "Harder." I order in a whisper. The noir complies and I shiver because it just _feels so damn good. _I tell him to go harder and harder until I can feel my skin protesting his wonderful teeth.

A little harder, I hear a voice in my head tell me. And I relay the order. Craig's jaw tightens and I feel my flesh tear where his teeth break skin. My heart is pumping blood to the wound at a painfully fast speed and its making my skin there even warmer. As soon as I start bleeding, however, Craig releases me. "You said you don't like pain."

I'm still leaning against his chest. "Some pains are goooooood." I reply with a suggestive purr to my voice. He doesn't say anything. Normally I hate pain with a passion. However, sex and biting are good pains.

Then I remember his cigarettes and his wounds and sit up to search my messenger bag. When I find the American Spirits I give Craig one and let him borrow my lighter. He smokes it with me between his legs. I'm fucking horny and I hope he doesn't notice. "You're bleeding." He informs me as if I didn't already know.

I'm silent until a thought comes to mind. "Do you have aids?" It would make sense since he's a whore! Oh sweet Jesus. "I HAVE AIDS! You gave me aids!"

Completely ignoring my broken wrist and boner I leap away from Craig. When I stand up the issue in my pants is more noticeable. Gray-blue eyes are drawn right to it. I want to die. Actually, I really want to jack off but Craig is here so I'm going to have to deal with it. I feel a ghost of his teeth on my shoulder and a violent shiver goes through me.

"Oh fuck..." I breathe. Craig is still watching me with an uninterested expression on his face. I wonder if he really would blow me. Then I remember he has aids and now I have aids. "GAH!" Now I have to get tested and no one will ever sleep with me again.

"I don't want to stop having sex!" I tug at my hair because yes, the thought is that stressful. Craig's eyebrow raises again. "You have – nngh! - aids and now I have it and no one will want to have sex with me!" He just rolls his eyes and takes a drag. I stare at him again.

Another thought pops into my mind and this time I intentionally share it. "People who have aids can have sex with each other right?" Its not like you get super aids or something. Do you? No. That's ridiculous.

I drop down somewhat ungracefully to my knees in front of him. "Will you have sex with me?" And a strange thing happened. Craig's face turned a very light shade of pink. The pink makes his dark bruise stand out more. Without a word Craig gets up and walks past me.

"No." Said in a voice that leaves no room for discussion. "I don't have aids." Is he still saying no to sex? "I'm not a whore." His eyes narrow and resume being scary ocean waves in the midst of a storm.

"And I'm not having sex with a freak like you." The word freak cuts me deeply. I _hate_ that word. Its something that has always made me feel like I belong in a circus to be laughed at. Its something that marks me as _different._ As if I don't have enough things to mark me as different.

"You're an asshole." I reply with a frown. I am, however, relieved that I don't have aids. Unless Craig is lying to me. Its hard to tell since he doesn't show any emotion at all. He shoots me a glare.

He's still smoking so he can't go out into the hall where the smoke alarms actually work. I light up too because I kind of want an excuse to stay with this strange temperamental noirette. I watch Craig pace, wince, then sink down between the hand dryers. "Can I – ack! - see?" Referring to the bruises I'm sure are there. Craig glances at me then shrugs.

Since he doesn't move I take it upon myself to go to him. Damn I can't believe how long I've been on the gross bathroom floor. Maybe mom will pick me up early if I call her so I can take a shower and scrub the hell out of my skin. Gingerly I drop down in front of Craig and lift his shirt up. He doesn't stop me but he doesn't help me either so I have to physically move his arms out of my way and yank on his shirt until its loose enough to raise. Wow.

Not only is Craig Tucker fucking hot, he's also really fucking hurt. A lot. Its mostly focused around his abdomen, dark gray – yes, _gray_, almost black_ - _in the center, overlapping with navy blue and deep plum. Around the edges its a lighter pinkish color, pale green, and sickly yellow. It kind of looks like someone whacked him with a hard round object repeatedly. Did his father's _fist _do this?

How? Craig would have had to be held in place by something. "T-turn around." I order. Craig flips me off. I flip him off back and repeat my order.

With a sigh he obeys. I wonder why he's letting me see his wounds. Maybe because he knows I'm sometimes abused? Gingerly I lift the back of his shirt up. His spine is bruised a little so I assume he was up against a wall or something, being punched repeatedly. I let his shirt drop then smooth it into place.

I resume sitting in front of him smoking and thinking. While I don't blame him for not wanting to stay home, I also don't think he should have come to school. Craig must have a high pain tolerance because I'm sure it hurts just breathing. "All of that because you're – nngh! - gay?" I clarify with a cloud of smoke that floats directly into his face. My smoke cloud doesn't seem to bother him at all.

Craig is quiet. Finally he says, "There's a lot we don't agree on." Its in a 'stop asking' voice so I shut up about it. His cigarette is almost gone. Mine isn't.

Surprisingly, I really don't want to be in the bathroom alone. "Fuck! I hate public restrooms." I whine. But I have a cigarette so my hand doesn't automatically go up to my hair. Instead they both start shaking. Craig just closes his eyes.

While I haven't exactly been discrete before, I stare at him openly. The sketch I've been unconsciously making into Craig is in my messenger bag. I find myself putting my cigarette between my teeth and reaching into my messenger bag for the sketch book and pencil. I flip open to the page and start making comparisons. Craig's shirt is still a little raised so I can see the cluster of bruises and his gorgeous abs. This boy is very finely built.

I start sketching. When I sketch, I'm usually in my own little world, a peaceful one, which is why I like drawing. I erase a lot and when Craig goes to open his eyes to see what all the scratchy noises my pencil makes are, I tell him to close them and hold still. Right now Craig's body is the only thing on my mind; every dip, curve, line, shadow, highlight, and bruise. I erase and sketch and make it look more like Craig. Somewhere in the back of my head I hear a bell scream but ignore it.

I keep at it until I'm satisfied and Craig's cigarette is mostly just ash. He's taking my orders to heart, it seems, and I'm glad. My own cigarette has been neglected and is probably looking the same. When I get to his eyes I realize that Craig still has his closed. I know that if I tell him to open them he will, but that will freak me out. So I decide to do it by memory since I've seen them enough recently to be able to capture the intensity in them.

Wait. No, its apathy, I correct myself mentally. With intensity in mind I start to draw and color his eyes. The dark pupil in the center slightly more oval than round because Craig almost has cat eyes. Around the pupil I shade lightly then gradient it to a darker but not black shade. I smudge it slightly with my pinky finger on my left wrist.

He looks just like Craig, abused and ready for more. His eyes hold the promise of retaliation should someone dare to hit him again. Where his hands had disappeared into nothing, I draw hands curled into defensive fists at his sides. Now he's finished. The pencil rolls out of my open palm. Craig's eyes snap open at the quiet clack.

Those intense gray-blue eyes spot my notebook and snatch it from my hands. I'm startled and try to grab it back but he holds it out of my reach. So I lean back and watch his face nervously. What if he hates it? What if he gets those ashes on it? "Did you really draw this?" Craig asks after a thousand years in a doubtful nasally voice.

I frown. "Of course I – gah! - did! I'm not an art thief!" Art thieves are why I won't post any of my artwork online. That's not to say I don't scan my sketches and color them in photoshop, but yeah. No one but Kenny sees the colored versions. I tap my cigarette against my finger and ashes fall off onto the floor beside me.

"Its not bad." Not bad? Then Craig starts to flip through it. Mostly I have naked sketches of Kenny. Just because he loves to be drawn and he's gorgeous so I enjoy drawing him. Some of the other pictures are of people I've fucked and people who have caught my eye.

All of them are either faceless or have incomplete faces. There was one guy with a rainbow Mohawk who had a lip ring so the only face I drew was his lips with the piercing in them. As I look through my sketches with him I see that Craig's is the only complete face. Why? Craig notices it too. "Why am I the only one with a face?"

I shrug. Does this mean I like Craig's entire face? But I like Kenny's too and even he doesn't have a face. Although occasionally I draw his mouth when he sticks out his tongue because I like his tongue ring. "Its kind of creepy." He says and I frown again. If I ever even stopped frowning.

God I need to get out of this fucking bathroom. But still, Craig intrigues me and I must know more about how he works. So instead of running screaming like I want to, I ask him a question. "You mean your face?" And burst into nervous giggles because I just insulted him again, this time without meaning to. I hope he doesn't hit me but I don't think he feels up to a lot of movement right now.

Somehow the day after is always worse than while its happening. For my outburst Craig rewards me with a glare. I cross my legs and rest my arms on me knees. "No, dipshit. The lack of faces on everyone else." I smile and nod and a small giggle escapes me again.

The noir looks unhappy but not homicidal so I figure that I'm still in the clear. But the real question is _iwhy/i_? Isn't Craig some badass who doesn't take shit from anyone? "I don't know why they – ack! - don't have faces and you do." I lie. Craig hands it back.

"Is that McCormick?" He asks. A monotone nasally voice. What else was I expecting? I put my sketchbook back in my black messenger. How can he not tell its Kenny?

"Of course it is." Wait. Maybe that makes it sound like they are dating. I would never date Kenny. Not that there's anything wrong with him, he's just not a guy I want to date. "I-I mean, can't you tell?"

"I don't often see Kenny naked." Craig replies. I can see a small smirk wanting to form on his face but it remains blank as always. So he's seen Kenny naked too? Is that why he's having issues with his dad? I open my mouth to ask when and Craig cuts me off.

"We have gym together, I'm not one of the bitches he fucks." I'm not a bitch! I'm about to say this out loud then think better of it. Craig doesn't need to know who I've fucked. That's my business. So instead I cross my arms and huff like the mature teenager I am.

"He likes being drawn a-and he has a nice body so I – nngh! - draw him." I explain with a wiry smile. We sit in silence for a while. My mind begins to wander. I think of germs. There are germs _all over_ the bathroom that I'm sitting in. There are germs on my pencil which was on the floor and is now in my backpack.

"JESUS CHRIST I HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE!" I scream. I yank at my hair and leap to my feet. The sketchbook is shoved into my messenger bag and I race to the door, scrambling to unlock it and pull it open at the same time. It takes a few frantic minutes before I get the door unlocked and open. Once it is, though, I run like a bat out of hell.

I wish I could say that my day went smoothly. But after that the bell for third hour rang and I was suddenly surrounded by bodies. I had a panic attack right there in the middle of the hallway and Pip helped me to the nurses office. She gave me orange juice – which I didn't drink – and pills to calm me down – which I did take- that actually knocked me out for two more hours. So I missed lunch. When I woke up I felt like complete and utter shit.

My head felt foggy and I didn't know where I was and I really wanted a cigarette. Normally I'm not a chain smoker but watching Craig smoke really makes me want to have one. Wait. What? The nurse wasn't in the room when I woke up. So I took it upon myself to steal her NyQuil and then hightail it out of there.

My thermos is empty so I just dump the rest of the medicine in it. No NyQuil-Bailey's-coffee mix for me. That actually sucks a lot more than you might think it does. Anyways, when I went outside to smoke I realized that Craig still has my lighter. How the hell did he pull off stealing that? I'm the most paranoid kid I know; I pay attention to all my shit and everyone else's too.

So I decided to catch Craig between classes. He had just come from gym class when I found him, and his hair was freshly wet from the shower he took. It made him look way sexier and I decided right then and there that I wanted to see the rest of him wet and naked too. "Y-you have my – gah! - lighter." I tell him. His expression doesn't change as he digs in his pocket and drops it in my open hands.

Except I know as soon as I touch it that its not my lighter. Mine is a silver Zippo lighter with a Chinpokomon sticker on it. And I tell him this. Craig gives me a tiny smirk. "We're trading." Then he walks away leaving me with this strange lighter. I call after him, telling him he's an asshole and I want my lighter back.

Then I stop to look at the one he gave me. This one is a black Zippo with the words _fuck you_ scratched into the side. Classic Craig Tucker. Well fuck him too. The day is mostly over but I decide to go to my last hour anyways. The teacher calls on me to interpret some stupid poem but I mess it all up, as usual.

I don't know why they bother with me. As soon as school gets out I get a call from dad telling me that he needs me to come into the shop today and work. On the way to Tweak Bros I smoke a cigarette but quickly put it out when I'm within sight of the coffee shop. For the rest of the day I work in the coffee shop. And hey, I only spilled the drinks three times. When I get home I take a hot shower and collapse into bed without dinner.

Its been a long day. I wish I could say that it ended there, but Kenny came over. He snuck in through my window after nearly giving me a heart attack. We talked for about five minutes about our days and then started making out on my bed. Making out led to hot crazy sex. After that while Kenny slept I got out my sketchbook and drew him.

But he didn't come out quite right. Instead I was drawing someone else. Someone with a nasty bruise on his sexy stomach. Someone with intense eyes and hair blacker than night. Of course I would draw him. Of course I would draw Craig Tucker.


	3. Saturdays Aren't So Bad Afterall

Saturdays are tricky for me. While I despise school, I also don't like Saturdays. Mostly because I have nothing to do. I didn't sleep all night so I was awake when Kenny got up. The attractive blonde gathered his clothes, bid me farewell, and left out the window again. Sometimes he comes to the front door to stay for breakfast but when I don't hear the doorbell I assume he's gone somewhere else.

Mom has breakfast on the table – french toast – and I sit down to eat it. From the kitchen I can see her in the living room reading. Mom doesn't often read because she can't focus on the words but then I see its a Dr. Seuss book and suddenly it makes sense. The only books she can read are by him. She used to read them to me all the time. I finish up breakfast and head outside still in the clothes I wore yesterday.

When I got to light up an American Spirit I see the black lighter with _fuck __you_ scratched into it and am reminded of yesterday. Kenny didn't ask about the bite on my neck and mom didn't ask about the blood stain on my shirt. I would say they are used to it, but they aren't because its never happened before. Man, just _thinking_ about that bite makes my blood rush south. Maybe I'll get someone to bite me next time I have sex. You know how they say _speak __of __the __devil __and __he __shall __appear_, well it seems that Craig has appeared at the summoning of my thoughts.

Its only been a day and I already have him stuck in my head. "Jesus Christ." Craig is with Token and they're talking about something with serious expressions on their faces. I want to know what it is they are talking about so I head over in their direction, but not directly to them. Instead I pretend to browse a display in a window. It just happens to be a game store and Chinpokomon accessories are on display.

It makes it harder to listen when I'm thinking of what I want and what I have. But I catch some of their conversation. "Dude, what happened to your lighter?" Token asks Craig. I feel said lighter in my pocket, clutched closely around a curled fist. When I peek I see Craig is smoking too.

"Lost it." LOST IT? _LOST __IT?_ What does this asshole think he's saying? I'm burning up with anger because Craig stole mine and gave me his shitty scratched one. I was going to jack that lighter too.

Token doesn't seem to be buying it either. "Where did the Chinpokomon lighter come from?" The black skinned teen asks with a raised eyebrow. My eyes find a sheet of holographic Chinpokomon stickers that I don't own. Maybe I'll stick one on Craig's lighter with permanent glue like I did with mine. My lips turn up in a wicked grin.

"Found it." Is Craig's one worded reply. Yeah, he fucking _found __my __lighter._ Right when he happened to lose his. Before Token can reply I see a plushie I like. Its Flameon, the yellow and red cat-like thing with tusks.

I let out a loud joyful noise that unfortunately draws attention to me. Before either Craig or Token can say anything to me I rush into the store. Since I rarely buy anything I have quite a bit of money saved up. I get the holographic sticker sheet and the Flameon plushie. When I come out of the store I'm hugging the plushie and smiling because I just love Chinpokomon and plushies. Craig and Token are still there.

I look between the two of them and they stare at me. Token snatches my lighter from Craig and looks at the side then back to the plushie in my arms. They are the same. Well, one is holographic but still. "So you found it, eh?" Token asks with a sly smile.

Craig growls out confirmation as he snatches it back. Token doesn't seem to buying it. He takes out an expensive looking cigar that smells like heaven. "Hey Tweek, can I borrow your lighter?" My eyes dart to the lighter in Craig's hand. Token doesn't miss it.

"You stole his lighter?" Token asks Craig, eyebrows raised. I'm kind of glad that Token can separate his eyebrows to have just one raise like Craig can. It makes him seem a little more human that way. I mean, he's handsome and smart and rich, he doesn't need to be able to do everything. People could mistake him for a god if he could do everything.

By this time I've gotten the stickers open. I pull out Craig's lighter and select a FurryCat sticker. On the other side of _fuck __you _I stick it on. Later I'll actually super glue it on but for now this will do. I just really want to see what the other two will do. Token bursts out laughing.

Craig doesn't give me any reaction except another cold glare that _still _makes me feel like Earth is freezing over. Maybe one day I'll get used to it. Of course, that's implying that I'm going to be around Craig for a while. "Why don't you come have coffee with us?" Token invites me. "We're going to Harbucks."

Harbucks; home of shitty fake coffee. But I agree because coffee is coffee. We walk to Harbucks while Token tells Craig about Red. He has a major boner for her from the sound of it. I guess that for a girl Red is okay, but Token is telling this to two gay guys. The thought makes me laugh, earning me odd stares from the two of them.

"Gah! Sorry Token, I-I'm gay so I don't know what you see in her. I mean, I'm sure she's nice and not a maniac but – nngh! - oh Jesus I'm sorry!" I'm sure that I just insulted him. I would hate it if some guy said that he's straight so my boyfriend is unappealing. Not that I have a boyfriend, but boy would I sure like one.

Maybe; boyfriends are a lot of work. Maybe just a fuck buddy; but that's kind of depressing. Token's laughter pulls me out of my thoughts. "Its okay, dude. Craig is gay too." So he's used to it, he's saying.

We reach Harbucks, go inside, and sit in a corner that I assume they frequent regularly since they head over to it directly. Token sets his jacket down beside him so I'm forced to sit beside Craig. I suddenly feel a little nervous. And like I'm filled up with sparkly pieces of broken glass. Its not exactly a bad feeling, because I'm feeling a little elated, but its also not a good one because it kind of hurts. Especially around my stomach-spine area. My Flameon sits in my lap and I hug it tightly.

Dad would be pissed if he saw me in here. But when I want coffee and don't want to work, I come here often. The waitress, Bebe, comes over to take our order. She does this special for me because we're friends...I think. "Hey Tweekers," she greets me.

There are no greetings for Craig and Token. "Want your usual?" I nod so fast that it makes me a little dizzy. Bebe is wearing a low cut red shirt that hugs her slender curvy frame and that's how I know she's saving up for something. The lower the cut in Bebe's shirt, the more tips and she knows this. "What can I get for you two?"

Token orders a vanilla late and Craig a cup of hot chocolate. I can't believe Craig just bought _hot __chocolate_ in a _coffee __shop_. "So you and Bebe are friends?" Token asks when she leaves. He doesn't sound like he's surprised I have friends, which I guess is a good thing. Craig would sound surprised.

Kenny, Bebe, Pip, and Butters are my friends. But they aren't friends with me like they are with other people. We just hang out sometimes. Its okay; I don't really mind. "Y-Yeah." As usual when I'm in the store Bebe brings me my coffee first.

I keep telling her not to because she's going to get fired for ignoring other customers, but she just insists that she has to. She thinks she owes me this huge debt because I got her this job and then helped her while she was new and still trying to figure out the coffee machines. Usually though, I secretly appreciate it because she goes out of her way to help me while most people go out of their way to make my life hell. However, today I just think it makes things awkward since she doesn't bring Token and Craig's drinks. But I can't bring myself to complain. "You're _just_ friends?" Token clarifies.

God I want to die. I nod again. "I-I got her this – gah! - job so she brings my coffee first. I'm sorry, I keep – nngh! - telling her to stop." I explain then take a sip of the hot beverage. As the caffeine settles into my system I feel myself calming down a little.

A few minutes later and she returns with Token and Craig's drinks. "Seems like you've got it made, Tweek." Token smiles. I try to return the smile but all I can think about is my broken wrist. The broken wrist that brings my mind to the silent noirette sitting beside me and the bruises on his stomach. Suddenly the brunette checks his watch.

"Oh! I gotta go. Here." The other teen sets down enough money to pay for all three of us. "Bye Tweek. See ya later, Craig."

Then he's gone, leaving the two of us alone together. How do I always end up alone with Craig? This time it wasn't even intentional on either of our parts (the first time I kicked Kenny out and the second Craig kicked Stan out). "Why didn't you tell Token you stole my lighter?" I ask for no reason other than to make it less awkward. Craig glances at me and I realize this is the first time he's looked at me since we decided to go to Harbucks.

Or, since Token invited me to go. On the other hand, I haven't really been able to keep my eyes off him. "Because he would do that." Do what? But before I can ask Craig gestures to the empty seat across from us. "He thinks I have a boner for you."

Token left because..."Is he trying to set us up?" I yelp. I take a big drink of coffee before I really freak out. For all the sex I've had, I've never really been on a date or had a boyfriend. I'm not sure if that says something about me or them.

Craig changes the subject. "Draw anything interesting lately?" Meaning last night. I think back to trying to draw Kenny and having it turn into Craig. Quickly I shake my head. "Liar."

He says it with a smirk, like those gorgeous blue-gray eyes can see right into my soul. "I just drew you." I find myself saying. Top half Craig, lower half Kenny since I don't know what Craig looks like naked. He rests his cheek on his left hand and watches me. I start to squirm because I've never been good under pressure and Craig's gaze holds a lot of pressure.

"Let me see." It could be a question. If it was anyone other than Craig saying it. I shake my head frantically. His smirk vanishes into apathy. "Why?"

"I-Its at my house." I reply. His eyes flicker to my side as if expecting my messenger bag slung over my shoulder like usual. I'm not that much of a geek that I carry it around on the weekends. For the weekends I have an older dark brown one covered with Chinpokomon patches, but I forgot to bring it today. Craig takes his first drink of hot chocolate, which is probably too cold to taste good.

"Lets go." He says as soon as he sets it down. His hip nudges against mine, letting me not so subtly know to get up. I don't move. Craig Tucker is not the person I want in my house. Besides, I don't know what kind of mood mom is in.

I'm not sure if she'll hurt me while I have guests. What if she hurts him too? What if he tries to fight her? Then I'll have to fight Craig! "What?" I ask, dumbfounded as to how he can even suggest such a thing.

"We're going to your house." And with that Craig promptly picks me up – no easy feat in a booth – and sets me on my feet. Our money and drinks remain on the table as he takes my hand and drags me from the store. I'm lucky that I still have my Chinpokomon stuff otherwise I'm sure he would leave them behind too. Just in case he gets any ideas I hang on tighter to my plushie and stickers. That is until I realize that I'm going to bend my stickers.

"What?" I repeat. "I don't want to...You can't...My mom..." I try to convey my point but Craig isn't listening.

"Where do you live?" Oh sweet Jesus now I have to tell him where I live. Wait! No I don't! But he's looking at me with those stormy eyes and I just can't say no because deep down I see something he's been keeping hidden from everyone else. So I give in and tell him.

We arrive at my house twenty minutes later and I let us in. Mom has migrated to the kitchen where she is baking strawberry pie. When she turns around, a fresh pie in her hands, she nearly drops it. However, she makes her fumble look like it was on purpose as she plops the pie onto the counter with a quiet clack. "Hello, sweetie. Who's this?"

Her eyes are gleaming but not with madness. She looks...happy. My mother looks happy. Because of Craig? "Craig Tucker, ma'am." Craig introduces himself.

Well, well, isn't he a charmer? "I'm...uh...going to show him my sketchbook." I tell her. She raises a delicate eyebrow, the same way Craig does. Wow, how could I have missed that? Mom knows that I don't show anyone my sketchbook.

The only way Kenny knows about its contents is peeking at it while I'm drawing or being the subject of my drawings. Other than him, and now Craig, no one else has seen it. And I feel very self conscious about it. "Well have fun. Is Craig staying for dinner?" Mom asks.

I'm about to say no, when Craig cuts me off. "Only if you don't mind, Mrs. Tweak." Dear lord now he's eating dinner with us too? Judging by mom's happy glow she doesn't mind at all. I roll my eyes and pout, as childish as he is. It doesn't go unnoticed and mom turns to the coffee pot to hand me a fresh cup of black coffee.

"Wonderful! I don't mind at all, Craig." She's beaming and I feel jealousy and despair fight for dominance inside me. I wish I could make her like that; why is Craig making her glow like that? "Come over whenever you like." I nearly spit out my coffee when my mother says that.

I drag Craig away before mom can invite him to live with us. When we're safe in my room Craig comments, "She doesn't seem insane." I give a small chuckle even though I'm frowning. Suddenly I'm suddenly really aware of the smell of sex from early this morning. Maybe I should open the window.

But that will draw attention to the wonderful smell. "She's having a good day." I reply as I search for my sketchbook. Unlike most people, I don't have a desk; I have a round table between my door and my closet. My bed is pushed up against the window wall next to a TV and beanbag chairs that are in the corner opposite my bed. On the wall opposite the window are shelves filled with random items that I've collected over the years, a dresser, and a full-length mirror.

I find my sketchbook but am reluctant to hand it over. Instead I flip to the page. "She wouldn't hurt you if I was here." Its a question. I know that its a question. So I have to treat it like a question.

"I don't know." At his silent question I explain. "Kenny – nngh! - is the only one who v-visits and usually he doesn't make his – gah! - presence known to my parents." I sit at one of the chairs at my table and set the sketchbook on the table. Not exactly giving it to Craig, but not exactly _not_ giving it to him. Craig sits opposite of me and takes it.

He stares at the drawing. "That's McCormick's dick on my body." Oh jeez, I totally forgot that Craig already saw Kenny. Then Craig's cloudy eyes lock onto mine. "You sleep with him." How does he make it sound like a statement when its really a question.

"Um...Yeah, thats his dick on your body – ack! - because it started out as him but then – nngh! - it turned into you and I don't know what you l-look like below the waist so – gah! - thats why." I quickly explain. "And my sex life isn't your - nngh! - goddamn business." The noirette's subtle frown tells me that I may as well have said yes to the second not question-question. I bang my head against my desk and groan softly.

We sit in silence and I close my eyes. When I hear Craig's chair scoot back I think he's leaving. Then I hear things being set on the table. I still don't open my eyes because I don't even want to look at him. Or maybe I don't want him to look at me. Its only when I hear a zipper do I open my eyes and look up.

There's Craig, shimming out of his black jeans and Red Racer boxers. "Gah! W-what are you doing?" I ask, my face tinting a light shade of pink. In spite of this I get a little excited. Craig is stripping.

He's stripping in my room! "Draw me with _my_ dick." Its a command. I look around for my art supplies, temporarily forgetting where I put them. Then I get up, go to my bed, and take out the giant art kit that my parents got me a few Christmas's ago. I haven't used it, ever, but I feel the need to use it on Craig.

When I return to my table I push Craig's stuff – keys, phone, my lighter, pack of cigarettes – off and pick up the sketchbook and set the art kit on the table. I open it and prop it up against the wall. It takes up the entire table. Then I go into my closet and bring out my easel. I glance over at Craig. "Take off your shirt."

I watch him pull his shirt over his head. Now he's naked except the hat and his socks, but neither of those stay on for very long. "Go lay – nngh - on the bed." He obeys me without a word. I decide to go with color pencil and felt tip pens. Then I look over at him again.

He's perfect. Except for one thing. "Um..." I shuffle my feet. How do I bring this up? Haha That's ironic considering...

I inch closer to him. Craig watches me get closer until I'm standing beside my bed. My entire body is quivering and I can't take my eyes off him. Just do it before you lose your nerve! My mind yells at my body and then I'm on all fours over Craig. He's looking up at me mildly curious but without a trace of it in his face.

"Y-you have to be..." I try to explain with a gesture to his lower regions. His expression still doesn't change but his aura does. Might as well go through the motions; well some of them anyways. I lower my head and brush my lips against his. When Craig finally kisses me back I realize that he's kind of awkward like he doesn't know how to kiss.

Is this his first time kissing? I bend my elbows to get a bit more comfortable and tilt my head to the right to deepen the kiss. I tangle my hands in Craig's ebony locks and part my lips to run my tongue along his bottom lip. After a brief hesitation Craig opens his mouth too. Using my teeth I draw his bottom lip into my mouth and suck gently. I bite, hard enough to bruise but not enough to bleed, before letting him go.

We break contact for a second and I hear him take a deep breath before I dip down again. This time I slide my tongue into his open mouth and rub it against his. Craig tastes like hot cocoa, peppermint, and an ash tray. I know the last one doesn't sound appealing but I probably taste like an ash tray too considering all the cigarettes I smoke. Then I decide he needs to breathe again since I don't want to overwhelm him (well, I kind of do) so I kiss down his chin, along his jaw and to his neck. Gently I bite down and suck.

He lets out a throaty moan that has _me _getting turned on. So I work at his neck harder. "Nngh...Wait." Craig's hands on my shoulders make me release his neck. "No marks." I glance down at the faint red spot and sigh but nod.

Even though biting is my favorite thing I move on because I don't want his dad to beat him because of me. I kiss down his chest, pausing to lick his nipple. Craig arches up against me involuntarily. Gingerly I lower myself onto him, shift my weight to the right, and move my hand up to play with his other one. The sudden hardness digging into my abdomen is informing me that I'm doing my job well. Now I just have to keep him turned on for a few hours so I can draw him.

Or, at least, for long enough for me to draw his dick. "Sweet Jesus I'm so weird." Craig mumbles something that could be _why_ or could be _yeah_ but I'm not too sure. I tug my jeans down to my knees as I flick my tongue over his nipple again. Then, I scoot up so I can feel his hard on against mine and grind against him. "I-I'm turning you on just so – nnn! - I can draw your dick."

Craig doesn't speak words, but rather just a string of sounds similar to some of the ones I make. I grind again and this time he raises his hips to meet mine. Craig is a very quick learner, apparently. The shaking in his hands is hardly noticeable when he rests them on my hips. At first I worry he's going to push me away again but this time he slides them up farther. He raises his head and sinks his teeth into my shoulder.

A wave of heat literally washes over my entire body. From my head to my toes I get _hot. _"Damn Tweek." I think its the first sentence Craig has said in a while and I think its because heat is literally radiating off my body. I roll my hips against his, wiggle my hands beneath his back, and press us close together. Craig's teeth find my neck again.

The more Craig bites me and the harder the more my temperature goes up and the harder I get. As I move against him I find my hands pushing down my boxers. Our skin touches. Oh _fuck._I want to - "Tweek."

What? I look up at Craig. "You're supposed to be drawing me." Its said without any emotion as if I don't want to fuck his brains out. Okay, that's kind of gross. But still.

I blink a few times and lift myself off him. "S-sorry." But my mind is slow and sluggish. My body is still hot and I'm still horny and so is he. Ah, yeah, I'm supposed to be drawing him. "Okay."

I agree. I pick myself up, pull up my boxers and jeans, and give myself a good shake. Craig is watching me but I can't tell what he's thinking. All I see is his breath coming in quicker and sweat starting to dampen his forehead and his eyes glazed over with lust. God he has sexy bedroom eyes. Not making a good case here, I think as I go to my table and not so gracefully fall into my chair.

Most people start with eyes, hair, or faces when they start drawing. I start with Craig's dick because I know its not going to stay hard forever. As I draw I go from one passion to another I get lost in my art. Slowly Craig appears in light strokes on my canvas. I color lightly with colored pencils and then shade with them. When that's finished I start to ink it.

My wonderfully thin felt tips are of great use. Five hours later I have a fully colored full body picture of Craig. The picture done, I lean back with a sigh and close my eyes. "You can move." I tell him. He gets up and walks over to look. I force my eyes open so I can see his expression.

"You drew the bruises." I just nod. It doesn't seem like a not question-question. Honestly I hadn't even been thinking of them, they just worked their way onto the drawing Craig's abdomen and cheek. I stretch and let out a whine. Fuck, I need coffee.

"Tweek!" I hear mom call my name from downstairs. Normally she comes up to get me but she knows I have company so she won't. "Dinner's ready!" Craig gets dressed and then we head downstairs. Dad is home and sitting at the kitchen table.

He and mom exchange looks when dad notices Craig. After studying them I determine that it isn't bad expressions, but rather _happy_. I don't understand it. Dad and Craig introduce each other while mom puts food on the table. Craig and I are sitting next to each other, mom and dad at opposite ends of the table. Today dinner is homemade biscuits and pieces of chicken with peas from the vegetable garden.

And of course coffee. Being a vegetarian I ignore the chicken and chew on a biscuit instead. Craig and his father talk all throughout dinner but I'm not paying attention to what they're saying. Mom keeps smiling at me like she's so proud of me. Would she be proud if she knew that yesterday I stole NyQuil from my school? "Tweek, honey, why don't you invite Craig to spend the night?"

My jaw drops and I quickly close it. I haven't had anyone spend the night since third grade and that was a disaster. It seems that Craig was listening for us to start talking because he looks over at us. He seems to debate it for a moment. "I'll have to call my parents first, but that will be fine." I groan but no one seems to notice it.

And that's how dinner goes. After dinner mom and dad get the dishes. Craig goes out front and I stand nervously by the door listening. "Hey. You okay?" Craig asks into the phone.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm spending the night at a friends house. Look, you know what to do. Just go in your room and lock your door. If something happens go out your window and run to a friend's house then call me." I wonder who he's talking to with such a stressed out voice.

"Okay. Yeah. You too. Bye." I scramble away from the door and leap onto the couch as soon as he says _bye. _What if that was his boyfriend?

Is that why he didn't want to have sex with me? Oh my god, I'm so embarrassed! I cover my face with my hands and pull my legs up to my chest just as Craig walks in. "They said I can spend the night." He lies smoothly. I just nod.

Craig studies me for a moment before coming over to sit beside me on the couch. I shouldn't be upset. But for some reason I am. The thought of someone who _isn't _me touching Craig just makes me so angry and jealous. I shouldn't be feeling this way. Before a few days ago Craig was just someone to avoid but now it seems that I've become obsessed with him.

"I want to draw you again." I inform him. Craig just nods. He gets up and extends a hand out to me, which I take because I like touching him. Sort of. Well, touching him doesn't make me freak out.

We stop by the kitchen to get some strawberry pie and coffee and tell mom that he's spending the night. Then we go upstairs to my room. I lock the door in case my parents decide to check on us. Hopefully, though, they've outgrown that but its hard to tell since I haven't had anyone spend the night in a while. The drawing of Craig is still on the easel for the world to see. I take it off and set it on the floor between my bed and closet, just under the window.

The I pull the heavy black curtains shut to block out the night. Craig sits at the table eating pie, having moved my art kit over just enough to set his plate down. I'm overcome by the need to draw him, right now, and start sketching again. If Craig knows he's being drawn he doesn't give any indication of it. This time I just do sketches; sketches of Craig with his fork in midair over the pie, of Craig taking a bite with the fork in his mouth, of Craig staring down at the pie. Then I start doing random pieces; just the half eaten pie on the plate, Craig's intense eyes, his head with his black hair hiding his eyes from view.

"You like drawing." I give a noise of confirmation. The center sketch, the first one with Craig holding the fork over the pie, I begin to lightly color with colored pencils. "Do you sell them?" I think its the first question I've ever heard from Craig directed at me. I shake my head and he asks why.

"I mostly draw naked people and those are m-mine. They belong to me." Implying that Craig also belongs to me. "The rest are – ack! - faceless people I've never met. They aren't something I would see anyone hanging up in their living room." The quick sketches finished I start eating my own pie.

"You draw more than just people." How does he know? Well, duh, the pie and fork in these sketches which he is obviously looking at. The sketchbook he saw was just people. I have others for other things but Craig hasn't seen them. "You could sell those."

"Why do you want me to sell my drawings?" I ask. My voice sounds a little distressed and I'm feeling a bit distressed so I take a drink of coffee. Craig shrugs. "Only the art teacher has seen- gah! - my other drawings, but I never let her keep them." Because I can't bear to part with them.

Drawings are like memories for me the way photographs are memories for other people. I worry that I might lose pieces of my memory if I give them away so I keep all of my drawings in boxes in my closet. "So I can't have one." Craig confirms. I shake my head no and take a bite of pie. "Can I have a print of one?"

I blink and consider it. Its just a print, I'll be keeping the original. "Which one?" I ask nervously. His eyes go straight to the one on the floor. "I-I think that - nngh! - makes you narcissistic." I tease lightly with a small smile.

Craig shrugs. "You're good at drawing." His eyes narrow thoughtfully. "I'll make you a trade. I'll give you a photo for a print of that." I didn't know Craig was into photography. Unless he didn't take the picture.

"A photo – argh! - of what?" I ask suspiciously. Like Saturdays, photos are tricky for me because I believe that a person's soul can get caught in a photograph. By now we're finished with our pie and are staring at each other. Craig is so intense it takes my breath away. I have to keep reminding myself to breathe.

"Of us." Craig replies without hesitation. A photo of me and Craig? I'm not sure if I like the idea. How much does this noirette think he means to me? "I'll have to take one though."

For some reason I find myself agreeing. Leaving the dirty dishes on the table, we migrate to my bed. I have a few DVDs up here so we decide to watch one called _The __Dark __Crystal _which still scares the shit out of me every time I watch it. We drag the beanbags over in front of the TV, turn off the lights, and play the movie. About half way through the movie I'm so scared that I need to distract myself so I start kissing Craig's neck and ears. At first he ignores me but as the movie gets more and more scary I get more and more friendly.

Finally he turns his head around and kisses me. Thank you Jesus; a distraction! My hands go straight to his dick and I'm not entirely sure how either of us feels about this. "Do you always sleep with friends." Craig moans out as his hips buck up into my hand. I run my thumb over his tip.

"I only sleep with Kenny – gah! - a-and whoever I find in D-Denver but they aren't friends." I answer. My right hand goes from tip to base and back again slowly while my left goes to play with his nipple. Wouldn't it be hot if he had a nipple piercing? Jeez, Craig seems to be bringing out kinks in me I didn't know I had. Wait, I mean fetishes.

Meh, same thing. "You pick up whores in Denver." How does he make a question sound like a statement? Its bugging me. As punishment I pinch his nipple not so lightly. The noirette makes a hybrid noise of pain and pleasure.

Basically I get my hook ups from Kenny. Without him I would still be as sexless as Craig, who is slowly turning into something not so sexless. "They aren't – nngh! - whores. I don't pay them and don't really know them but Kenny r-recommended them. And they don't have – ack! - diseases, so don't worry." Wow that sounded awful.

"Doesn't seem like you to take risks." I know its uncharacteristic of me but really I'm not that much of a pussy. Well, it did take me a while before I would sleep with even one of them and I had to see the papers saying that they were negative for all diseases before I would so much as kiss them. But that's what any person should do! Who wants to get a disease? Not me.

"Hey Craig," I ask as something dawns on me. "Are we going to – nngh! - have sex?" Normally I would let things take their course but I know Craig would be upset if I let that happen. No matter how much he may want to fuck. Gah! Virgins are a pain in the ass.

Once I was like that. I think. Maybe. Craig looks at me with his dark eyes lit up by the TV screen. I feel that shattered glass feeling from earlier as I wait for an answer. "Not tonight."

Then some other night? I just nod and bite my lip so hard it starts to bleed. He kisses me again. This time I end up on my back on the floor with Craig rolling his hips against mine. Like I said, he's a fast learner. We make out and grind against each other until I notice how tired he's getting.

We turn the TV off and I usher him into my bed. I sit up with my back against the wall. Craig is facing me wearing nothing but his boxers. He reaches out for me and curls his fingers around my forearm. A gentle tug is enough to convince me to lay down beside him. At first I'm facing him but then he rolls me over and snuggles up to my back.

Let me make this clear. I _never_ lay with my back to my door. My bed is in the perfect position to see the window, door, and closet without being too near them (granted the window is a little close). So I have a tendency to sleep on my left side but Craig has rolled me over onto my right and I'm freaking out. I scream and shake and Craig murmurs in my ear that I'll be fine, that everything will be okay, that he has me. It calms me down enough that I stop screaming but I still whimper and tremble in Craig's arms.

He holds me close despite his bruises and I'm enveloped in his warmth. I can feel his heart beating strongly and steadily against my bare back. And his warm breath calmly tickling the tip of my ear. I'm safe. Craig is here. As long as I'm with Craig I'm safe.


	4. The Boy With Golden Eyes

I wake up to the devastatingly delicious scent of apple pie baking and know that today is one of mom's bad days. Fuck. Maybe I should let her wake me up? That might put her in a better mood. I wonder how Craig's doing. "Craig!"

I jerk into a sitting position and look around my room. No Craig. Hopefully he left early like Kenny does but my instincts are telling me that he didn't. Still in my boxers and t-shirt I get out of bed. God I feel sluggish; I must have actually slept more than two hours. Feeling a little foggy in my brain and heavy in my body I stumble down the hallway.

I _very carefully _get down the stairs. In the kitchen mom is talking about something and her eyes are just _sparkling _with ill intent but Craig doesn't seem to see it. The noir is sitting at the kitchen table, poisoned pie in front of him and fork in hand, talking back to her. I don't hear their conversation and my eyes zero in on the apple pie. My blood _boils_ because my _mother _is trying to _kill_ my _friend_. Then Craig slides the fork into the hot apple pie and comes up with a large forkful of sweet poison.

Without thinking I race towards him and tackle him out of his chair. We go flying, landing at my mother's feet and I feel my wrist protest loudly. "What the fuck Tweek." Craig asks irritably as he shoves me off. I push him away then stand between him and my mother. She's going to fucking kill us.

"Go to your room, mom." I tell her calmly even though all I want to do is scream obscenities. Its a weird feeling because I've never done this before. Mom stares at me like she would a strange bug under a microscope. "Go to your room, take your pills, and take a nap." Her eyes narrow as though she's considering it just because she's never seen me like this before.

Then I sense that she wants to push me over some invisible but very real edge. Oddly enough we never have bad days on the same day. Poor dad. Behind me Craig gets to his feet and assess the situation quietly. "Sweetie, I made some pie for you." She protests.

I stare back evenly. Without faltering I reply, "I'll eat it later." Really, this is a battle of wills. I've never had anything to fight for so I usually let her win but not this time. Craig is too important to back down.

"But what about Craig?" God I hate how sickly sweet her voice is. It cuts me like razors. "Craig wants some of my apple pie." I am so glad when Craig doesn't speak up. I'm not sure if Craig can throw up on command like I can, and I would hate to have to stick my finger down his throat or something to make him puke up that poison.

"Craig isn't hungry." Where mom's voice is overly sweet mine is hard as steel and just as sharp. "Even if he was, he's allergic to apples." I'm lying. Everyone in the room knows it. But neither of them call me out on it.

"Go to bed mom." I push my will out to her, willing her to go upstairs to bed. If she does then I can spike her tea with some sedative to knock her out for the rest of the day. That's a trick I learned from dad. Dad who also uses the same method on me when I have bad days. Finally she nods and walks past us.

I stay between her and Craig the entire time. Its only when I hear her door close that I relax a little. "Its poisoned. Blueberry pancakes and apple pies are poisoned." Its too late now, really, for me to go back on having a bad day. So instead of throwing it away in the trash like a sensible person I chuck it at the wall.

All of mom's hard work sliding down the wall in a toxic sticky mess. I whip around to face Craig. No goddamn reaction from him. My right hand curls into a fist, I take a step towards, him, and swing. I catch him on the eye. Before I can do anything else Craig grabs my shirt in both hands and slams me down onto the table.

I knee him in the stomach and listen to his pained inhale. I knee him a second time before he loosens his grip enough that I can free my right hand and punch him again. My knuckles pop. He throws me against the wall and I hit with a loud, painful thump. Suddenly all of my bruises from falling down the stairs throb painfully. Craig kneels down in front of me and I bite his shoulder as hard as I can before he shoves it into my mouth, forcing my head to bounce against the wall again.

Craig punches my jaw and I swing my leg up between his legs. My hands tangle in his hair and pull hard. One more punch to the face and I'm free to scramble away, which I do. I crawl to the fridge with an angry Craig stalking after me. He kicks me in the face, catching my right eye with his heel. I yelp but grab onto his leg and kick the other out from under him.

Craig comes crashing to the floor. He crawls over to me, grabs me by my wild hair, and smashes my head into the wall. I see stars and groan, weakly scratching him. For a moment we pause but then I rake my nails across his chest again, hard, and get a hiss of pain from the noirette. Tiny blood droplets start to well up. His fist connects with my stomach and the air _whooshes_ out of me.

I sink my teeth into his other shoulder hard enough to make him bleed. Good thing he doesn't have fucking aids although I think its a bit too late for that. Craig tries to pry me off but my jaws are strong and don't give. A swift knee to my nuts has me letting go with a pained gasp and curling into a ball on the floor. I don't care if I'm the one who started these low blows, this just isn't fair. I think I'm going to puke.

After a few tense seconds of paused fighting Craig stands up. I sink my teeth into his ankle. He kicks my shoulder with his other foot but ends up losing his balance and falling back onto the tile floor. By then I think I can move without spewing the contents of my stomach and punch his eye again. Craig picks me up by my shirt and slams me so hard against the fridge that it rocks back before falling forwards into place. My bones rattle with it.

He's getting ready to hit me again when I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him in for a kiss. I can't tell you what possessed me to do that but my legs wrap around his waist to tug him nearer. And we're making out but not like before. This is hard, pissed off, taking without giving back kissing. Another wave of heat washes over me and I drown in its intensity. Angry snarls turn into needy mewls.

Beneath my hands I feel Craig's muscles slowly relax. The rotten part of my mind thinks _gotcha _but I ignore it. Instinct tells me that if I do lash out now Craig will never let his guard down and that won't be good for me because we won't have sex. My refrigerator is rocking again but not from exchanging punches. I can't stop the moans that make their way to my parted lips but I try to muffle the sound by pressing my mouth to Craig's shoulder. This time without intent to bite.

I want him so bad it hurts. Then I remember that he said he wouldn't have sex with a freak like me. "W-why are you – nngh! – oh Jesus – doing this if you aren't g-going to have – ahnn! - sex with me?" I probably shouldn't have asked it. He's probably going to tell me something like he's using me to test out his sexuality. Or that this is all a big joke.

Craig's nails dig into my hips and he thrusts upwards hard. The moan that I let out is so embarrassing that my face turns pink. His mouth sucks lightly on my neck and shoulders. "I don't know." If Craig Tuckers could sound confused then I'm betting that this is what they would sound like. Teeth scrape against my skin and my entire body quivers with pleasure.

"O-oh." Its all I can think of to reply. Craig doesn't need to ask if I want to have sex; I've made this perfectly clear. We grind, kiss, and touch almost all over. He still won't let me touch him below the waist and I don't know why because its so _obvious_ that he wants it. So I satisfy myself with other things; smoothing out his hair with my fingers, kissing the bruises on his face, tracing patterns on his back.

Then I happen to glance over Craig's shoulder and see my dad standing there. He doesn't look phased at all that his son is being pinned to the refrigerator by someone he just met last night. "Uh...Hi dad." I greet him awkwardly. Craig freezes and holds me tighter as if he's afraid of being ripped away from me. Which doesn't make any sense because my dad knows all about my sexuality.

Dad enters the kitchen and stops right next to us, which happens to be in front of the coffee pot. "Good morning Tweek, Craig." I think Craig has died of embarrassment or something. I watch him pour a cup of coffee and long for some myself. "Where's your mother?" Believe it or not this is pretty much the same morning conversation we have every time he's here.

"S-She's – nngh! - upstairs. I was going to bring her some – gah! - special tea but..." Dad is nodding because he understands everything I just said. He makes a cup of tea for mom and pours some Bailey's in it before adding two sleeping pills. I think that only in my family can we get away with Baileys and sleeping pills mixed together. Then he bids us a good day and leaves.

"Uh...Craig? You o-okay?" I ask tentatively. His forehead is resting on my shoulder. For a while I get no response but finally he nods his head yes. I let out a sigh of relief.

The noir's stomach growls. "Um...I'll make you breakfast." I tell him. He nods again and eases me down to my feet. My legs are a little wobbly but after standing on them for a bit I decide that its not going to go away and just suck it up to make breakfast. Because I know Craig likes meat I make him scrambled eggs, bacon, and sausage.

For both of us I make up some pancakes from scratch and slice some oranges before pouring a glass of milk and two mugs of coffee. In Craig's coffee I put a lot of sugar and cream to make it taste better. At this point I've figured out he doesn't actually like coffee. It sounds like a lot of food and it is but none of it gets burnt or anything and its all out on the table in a timely manner. Craig is sitting at the table watching me silently. Cooking isn't really something that calms me down like sex and drawing, but its something I enjoy doing on occasion.

Mom has taken me under her wing and is determined to teach me all of her recipes before she dies. "Did you have the pancakes or the pie Thursday." Craig questions with a raised eyebrow. I sit down at the table and start to eat, even though I'm not hungry. As usual I skip over the meats. When I was in sixth grade I had to do a report on slaughter houses and since then I haven't touched meat.

Eggs are the fuzzy part because I do eat eggs in baked goods. But other than that I'm totally off meat. Maybe vegetarian isn't what I should call myself. I still eat dairy products. But how could I not? Soy tastes like shit.

"Pancakes." It seems that he's forgotten he asked me and I mentally mark that as something I don't like about Craig. Shitty memories don't work for me. He nods and keeps eating. "So are you – nngh! - leaving after breakfast?" I ask.

Craig just shrugs. "Do you have any other plans." I think it over. I tend to plan one day at a time because I never really know whats going to happen. I could freak out or die or something. Finally I shake my head. "Then I'll hang out with you."

I finally tear my eyes away from my plate. Craig's gray-blue eyes are cool still tide pools. "Um. Okay." I agree. "Why are you – gah! - hanging out with me?"

"Because you're interesting." Because I'm interesting. I don't think I'm interesting. I'm even more boring than Craig, who is turning out to not be as boring as I thought. There must be a lot I don't know about him. My appetite has vanished. I take a sip of coffee instead.

Because I'm still feeling spiteful I don't clean up the dishes or the pie on the wall and floor. Everything is left where it is. I want to take a shower – alone – but am kind of afraid of leaving Craig alone in my room. I'm afraid for my room not for Craig. Finally the need to be clean overwhelms the need to protect my stuff and I tell Craig I'm getting in the shower.

Thirty minutes later I come out with a towel wrapped around my middle. Showers are tricky when you only have one hand to use but I managed to not get my bandages wet. Looking in the mirror I see that my eye is puffy and swollen shut. I'm covered in the beginnings of what I'm sure will be very painful bruises. The back of my head throbs painfully with every beat my heart makes. So I take some of my mom's Diamorphine.

I run a brush through my wet hair, brush my teeth twice, and spray on some Axe. I dry off every inch of my body with my towel and start really taking inventory of my wounds when I realize that I'm just postponing going back to my room where I know Craig is waiting. Eventually I decide that this is stupid and adjust the towel so hugs my bony hips tighter. When I come back into my room I find Craig sitting on my floor with boxes from my closet surrounding him. "W-what are you doing? That's my stuff!"

Craig had been going through a sketchbook from last year. I know because I write the dates on the covers. The date I get it and the date I fill up the last page. "Looking." He replies as though its the most obvious thing in the world and he isn't invading my personal property. I storm over and snatch my sketchbook from him.

"Don't go through my stuff, dude. That's – gah! - not cool." I scold him as I gather my boxes back up and start to put them back into my closet according to year. Yes, the boxes are dated as well. In the process my towel starts slipping down my hips.

Naturally Craig doesn't help me put my boxes away even though they're heavy and I end up losing my towel. When I finally finish I look at him with a frown. His eye is swollen shut like mine and his face is bruised bad; but still not as bad as the bruises on his stomach. Across his chest are the red lines from where I scratched him and below that the bruise on his stomach looks even worse; which I previously didn't think was possible. "I-I want to draw you again." I tell him.

The breath Craig takes tells me he's in pain even though he doesn't let out a peep about it. While he doesn't protest, he also doesn't move. It doesn't matter. I adjust my easel, get a new piece of canvas paper, and start sketching. I sketch him just how he is; sitting leaning against my bed with his head bowed and ebony hair hanging in his face, one leg up and the other one resting beneath it, face resting on the hand that is on the propped up leg and fingers on his free hand running the fabric of his boxers hem across their tips. This time I color the entire sketch like I did his nude one. It doesn't take as long as the nude one and the bruises take longer than anything since I want to get them right.

When I'm finished I get up and show him. Craig looks a little like he's going to pass out but the corners of his lips twitch when he sees it. "Do I really look that horrible." He chuckles then looks down to inspect himself. I think he means the bruises from our fight and not the drawings so I don't take offense to it. "Fuck, Tweek, you're still too good at fighting."

Too good? Craig was kicking my ass. Well, actually, he was banging my head against a wall. "Not really. W-we didn't end up – nngh! - in the hospital t-this time." I say completely serious.

"It wasn't a fight to the death like it was back then." That's true. Wow how sad is it that we were trying to kill each other because of those freaky four? Even in the hospital we tried to kill each other. "You take more cheap shots than you used to."

I shrug as I set this picture down next to the other ones. Now that all of my stuff is in place I start to go through my drawers and closet looking for something to wear. I come up with cargo pants that are an army green color and a tight long sleeve black shirt. My boxers are ones my parents got me; army green with little coffee cups and hearts on them. "I have to be able – gah! - to defend myself." I close my art kit and put I under my bed.

"You're more than capable of defending yourself." Craig praises me. I sit down beside him and sigh. That fight shouldn't have happened because we're both already injured. At least now I know I can fight well with a broken wrist. The thought doesn't give me the confidence booster I was hoping for.

"Hows your wrist." Nice of him to remember. I shrug. Gently he takes it in his hands and examines it even though I'm pretty sure he doesn't have the same _medical degree _as Kenny. I let him without complaint because the Diamorphine has kicked in and I can't feel anything. My head rolls to the side.

Normally I just take a Valium but Valium isn't a pain killer, its an anti-anxiety medicine. The Diamorphine is actually related to Morphine. You dissolve it in water and inject in into the body via syringe. Usually its used for after surgery for patients who can't swallow but mom hasn't told me how she got it. Not that I ask because that would be like confessing that I take her medication. Anyway, its pretty great when you're in pain and don't want to feel _anything_.

"Tweek." I don't respond. Jesus my head is heavy. I think I'm going to topple over. Oh, look, there I go. That's going to hurt tomorrow.

"Tweek." Craig is lifting me up but my body is kind of just flopping back over. "What the fuck is wrong with you." He sounds a little stressed out. I want to tell him I'm sorry. But its his fault anyways.

Magically we end up on my bed. Craig is hovering over me but my neck won't turn my head so I'm staring at myself in the mirror. At least I think that still wide-eyed freak with crazy blonde hair in the mirror is me. I'm suddenly forced to look at him. I drown in the cold tide pools that are his eyes. Suddenly its really important I tell him about his eyes.

"I...I like your...eyes." Okay, can't quit now. "They're...so beau..tiful...and it makes me..." Why am I crying? "Feel like I'm...drowning..." My face starts to heat up. And I can't move.

Craig is staring at me like he doesn't understand. So I try again. "Craig...I..._really love_ your eyes...They...look like clouds...and r-rain...a-and oceans...and tide...pools..." He puts a finger on my lips to shush me. I try to lick it but that's too much effort.

"I got it. You like my eyes." I try to tell him that I _love _his eyes but he adds another finger on my lips. "Tweek, did you take something in the bathroom." The bathroom? I...bathroom...what?

Craig sees that I'm not understanding it. We were just talking about his eyes now he's asking me about the bathroom? They are completely unrelated. "Tweek did you take any pills or something while you were in the bathroom." I don't remember taking anything so I try to shake my head. My head shaking is delayed but eventually it moves a little.

My head falls over so I'm looking in the mirror. Damn I look so fuckable. Even with the bruises. Wait! "D-Dia...morph..ine..." Craig moves my head back to look at him and I drown all over again.

God I _love those eyes_. I want to have babies with Craig's eyes. Wait, I'm talking to him. "D-Dia...morphi...ne." I repeat. His frustrated expression tells me he doesn't know what it is.

"I-Its a... a pain...k-k-killer." I explain. Craig doesn't answer for ages and I stare into his eyes the entire time. It always disappoints me when he blinks but I love seeing his gorgeous eyes again. While I'm drowning I become aware of a heart beating loudly. Is that mine or his?

It must be mine because Craig is too cool to let anyone hear his heart beating. He likes to make people think he's heartless but he isn't. I know because I've heard his heart beating..."What did you take that for?" My eyes flicker to my wrist. Its supposed to be broken but I think its just fine.

If only I could move my arm to unravel the bandages...Nope, not happening in this lifetime. My eyes spot the bruising from injecting myself with drugs so many times; I don't think it will ever go away. Craig hasn't noticed it or if he has he just thinks its from my mother. Not exactly. Craig's never had sex and he doesn't know what needle marks look like.

"Y-You're so...naive...Craig." His eyes turn to choppy ocean waves that send shivers down my spine. I manage to flop my right hand over to the inside of my left elbow. Those ocean storm eyes follow my hand and he frowns. I laugh but its kind of more like a squeak. My eyes slide closed.

I feel Craig's hand on my cheek then his lips on my forehead. "I'll be right back." Then he's gone. I fall asleep. I dream of stars and trees and making love with Craig on a hill so high above a city that all we see are building lights and street lights. Fireflies dance around us and we're both singing some wordless tune that is all ours.

A slap to the face wakes me up. I feel groggy and look up with confusion to see Craig. "Is...the song over?" I ask sleepily. Slowly I bring my hands over my head and stretch out; still can't feel anything. This Craig looks angry and a sliver of fear ebbs its way into my brain.

"You took _heroin_?" Craig yells at me. I try to tell him not to yell because mom is sleeping or should be. And my head is pounding in time with my heart beating. Then what he said sinks in, more or less. Heroin?

No I just took Diamorphine. I tell him this. "Diamorphine _is_ heroin you idiot!" Say what? Well...that explains some things. No wonder the label tells you not to take it excessively.

Good thing I listen to the labels. I struggle to sit up. Reality and my dreams mix. Is Craig breaking up with me? "I-I didn't...know! I-I didn't know...Craig..."

I'm crying again. I can feel the hot tears rolling down my burning flushed cheeks. Finally I'm sitting up and staring at him with large unblinking owl eyes. "D-Dont b-break...up with m-me!" Now he looks confused and angry. I wish I could help him.

I wish I hadn't taken Diamorphine aka heroin. Craig sits down and I can tell he doesn't know what to do. So I crawl over to him and lay my head in his lap. "I'm sorry..." As long as I'm with him I'll be fine. As long as we're together we will be okay.

Craig's hands drag through my hair. "Don't do it again." I try to nod. My head barely moves but I hear his sigh of relief. "Why do you even have that." Craig must not have caught on that long answers aren't really on the menu right now.

So I answer something he should get. "Mom." He makes a growling noise in his throat. "Don't...take it a lot." I try to make this seem more reasonable. Less bad, somehow.

But I'm lying. I do take it quite frequently. Not as frequently as the bottle says to but more than I should take it; which is not at all. My cheek starts sliding down Craig's leg to the ground and he hauls me back up. Craig stretches us out on my bed with our feet on the pillow end. "You w-won't break up...with me w-will you?"

A soft sigh tickles my neck. "No." I feel warm – not from the supposed heroin I just took – and snuggle back into him. Craig holds me close, tight, like he's afraid I'll evaporate right before his eyes. "How long does it take to wear off." Craig not question-questions.

"Five...or s-six hours..." I answer. He sighs again, something he's been doing a lot since I woke up. "But I've...b-been asleep...f-for like...half that..." At least three hours or so. I still feel like I could sleep for days.

"Its only been ten minutes Tweek." All of that in ten minutes? Oh my god. I'm going to wake up with the worse hangover ever and extremely horny. "Go to sleep, Tweek." I obey him or maybe he just has good timing because I fall asleep.

I dream that we're back on the hill above the city. Craig is perfect and the stars are perfect and the song is just _perfect. _We make love repeatedly, never getting tired or spent. The fireflies keep dancing and the stars shine above and the city lights glow below. The song is on repeat but it doesn't get annoying or anything.

Its an exciting, slow, familiar but new song. Every time Craig touches me it brings my nerves to life and I moan his name. And every time I touch him he shivers and moans my name. No matter what the wordless song still plays. Every move we make speaks of undying love. I never want to wake up.

But I do. I wake up next to Craig. My head _hurts _and I remember now why I don't like taking these. I try to swallow but my mouth is like cotton. Using most of my energy I crawl over him and land with my chin on the floor. When Craig rolls over my feet make me do a flip and I hit my head on the edge of my bed.

I think I'm going to have brain damage. "What the fuck are you doing now?" Craig is peering at me over the edge of the bed. I notice that he still isn't dressed. But I have more important things to do. My thermos is on the table and I do a half-assed army crawl to it.

As soon as I pick it up I know its empty. My eyes find Craig, who is sitting up and rubbing his head. He thinks _he _has a headache? That boy doesn't know the meaning of the word. Craig takes my thermos and leaves my room. I curl up in a shaking ball on my floor.

A few minutes later Craig returns and hands me the thermos. Its filled with some liquid. God what if he peed in it? Ew. But I'm thirsty so I tilt my head back and put it to my lips. Tap water runs into my mouth.

I nearly spit it out because I dislike tap water but I'm really thirsty so I just swallow it. "You humped the hell out of my leg." Well, that's kind of embarrassing. "And kept moaning my name." Craig just doesn't know when to shut up does he? I take another sip of the disgusting tap water and choke on it.

Most of it ends up spilt down the front of my shirt. Its times like this that I feel as pathetic as everyone seems to think I am. The thermos drops from my hand and spills onto my carpet until Craig picks it up. "I...feel like – nnngh – shit." When I look up I see a very unsympathetic Craig staring down at me. My eyes drop back down to the carpet.

Usually to counteract the shittiness of my hangovers I take something else. I know, not very smart. But I vaguely remember promising Craig I wouldn't take anything else so I'm going to have to ride this out. "You look like shit too." That comment alone is almost enough to make me take something just to spite him. Don't think I've forgotten that today is a bad day; Craig just takes most of the edge off it.

"Thanks asshole." I reply sarcastically. Then I check my clothes, somewhat disappointed to see them all where I left them. Craig didn't take advantage of my drugged up state. Either that or he's really good at putting things back where they go. "How long – gah - was I out?"

"Five hours." Which means that it must be around 7pm. "I'm spending the night again." No room for argument in that statement. Not that I want to anyways. "Your parents went to work around the third hour."

Which means that mom must be feeling better. That's good. At least one of us is. "What were you dreaming about." Craig asks me like he doesn't know. Which he doesn't.

This is one dream that I'm going to hang onto forever. I stand up, feeling very down. "Nothing that will ever happen." I say sadly as I leave my room. The bathroom is my destination and no, not to take any medications I probably shouldn't. I just really have to pee.

When I return Craig is watching me like a hawk. He's also in the middle of getting dressed. These are his clothes from yesterday and lying wadded up on my floor hasn't done them any favors. Not that anything can make that Red Racer t-shirt more appealing or those ripped jeans any less tacky. "I thought – ack! - you were staying?"

"I am. We're going out." Outside, in the cold, is not where I want to be. Especially not outside in the cold in the _dark_. "Don't argue." He cuts me off before I can even think of a good argument for staying inside.

I sigh and look around for my jacket because there is no way in hell I'm going out without one. The _I'm going to shatter into a million pieces if someone touches me_ feeling definitely applies here. I put on my boots and wait at my table for Craig to finish getting his on. Finally he shrugs on his jacket and chullo, then looks at me ready to go. Everything is put back into his pockets. I grab my keys and follow him downstairs before asking where we're going.

"For a walk." Is his reply. Jesus Christ. We go for a walk and run into Stan and Kyle. The two of them are rivals of Craig and have been beating around the bush about being gay for each other for years now.

It reminds me that I don't want to beat around the bush with Craig. I want him to be my boyfriend. When they pass I tug on Craig's jacket sleeve to stop him. His storm cloud eyes bore into mine. "W-will you go out with m-me? I want – gah! - you to be my boyfriend."

Craig gives a small Craig Tucker smile. He rubs his nose against mine. I feel the sparkly pieces of broken glass return to attack my insides. "Don't you remember. I told you I wasn't going to break up with you." I don't remember us dating, but maybe that's what all this making out has been.

Did this happen while I was on the Diamorphine? When he sees I don't get it Craig sighs. "That means yes, Tweek." Then he kisses me. The sparkly broken glass feeling intensifies. And even though its cold, dark, and I'm suffering from a heroin hangover I feel amazing.


	5. About An Hour Late

When I wake up from my normal two hours sleep Monday morning the first thing I notice is that on my chest and arms there is a map. Not like a normal map, but the intense random designs that whatever I was sleeping on decided to embed in my skin. I run a hand over the skin there and am not surprised to find that its textured. The first thing I do is get out an old camera and snap a picture of it. Maybe I'll draw myself later or something. Right now I have to wake Craig up.

I go to do that when I notice he isn't next to me. His clothes are lying on the floor from where we left them last night. We slept in our boxers again, which is actually kind of new for me because I usually just sleep in my clothes. But I love the feeling of Craig's skin against mine so boxers it is. Now to find out where the hell Craig went. Craig my boyfriend.

Oh my god. There's that glittery glass raining down on my organs feeling again. I'm beginning to have a suspicion as to what that feeling actually is but I don't want to even think it. Instead I get out of bed and pull on my clothes from yesterday, since I only wore them for half a day and spent most of that time sleeping. The shower running clues me onto where my boyfriend is. If I wasn't dressed and we didn't have school I would probably join him.

Speaking school what time is it? I glance at the alarm clock on my dresser. 7:55 am. So we're going to be late for school. Its not like we've been attending first hour lately anyways. I'm probably failing it. The shower water turning off catches my attention.

A few minutes later Craig comes into my room with a towel wrapped around his waist and water dripping off him. "I'm borrowing some clothes." Say what? Craig isn't small enough for my clothes. I'm short and skinny while Craig is tall and lean. Sometimes I even have to shop in the kids section because nothing fits right.

"I could just w-wash your clothes." I suggest but Craig is already going through my stuff. Again. It makes me twitch a lot so I look away. But that makes me wonder what he's doing so I turn back to face him. From my closet he pulls out a plaid navy blue, gray, and black short sleeve shirt that is two sizes too big for me.

The shirt is set on the table before Craig moves to my dresser. He pulls out my neatly folded pants and with a good shake unfolds them. A squeak passes my lips at the treatment of my clothes. Because of my shaking hands it takes me a long time to properly fold clothes. Craig holds them up to his waist one by one then neatly – oh my god he can neatly fold clothes – folds them and puts them back in my dresser. Finally he comes across a pair my grandma got me for my birthday.

They are normal blue jeans but are also a size to big for me. Even with a belt they still lay low on my hips so I never wear them. I watch Craig get dressed and drool over his bodacious body. Craig doesn't seem to realize just how very _attractive _he is. A little more experience and he could rule the world with that body. "Uh, hey, what do – gah! - you wanna do when y-you graduate?"

Craig doesn't hesitate when he answers, "Become a professional photographer and movie director." Wow. I wasn't expecting that. Nor was I expecting the clipped, defensive voice. People must have made fun of him for it but I can't imagine why.

They must also have a death wish. "That's – nngh! - cool." I only vaguely remember Craig being the one to get me addicted to cough syrup. Whatever show he had in third or fourth grade I don't remember it. Probably because I was _high_. Somewhere in my room a phone vibrates.

I think its mine and scramble around to look for it. Normally I don't misplace my phone but I haven't used it in a while so I haven't got a clue where it could be. I find it beneath a beanbag chair. Flipping it open I see that its Kenny txting me. "Its Kenny." I tell Craig as I open the message.

_U wanna go 2 a fight?_

I frown; that didn't tell me anything. Who is it between? Do I have to pay? Come on, Kenny, details. I txt him this. "He asked if we want to go to a fight."

Craig is fully dressed now and looks amazing. I could never pull that off. Then again, I can't really pull anything off. "I think he asked you if _you_ want to go to a fight." Craig corrects me. Right, because I haven't told anyone that Craig and I are dating.

Wow that's a head rush. _Me and Craig are boyfriends_. "I'm inviting you." I reply. My thumbs hover over the keys of my phone and I wonder what to say. A glance at Craig and all I get in reply is a shrug.

I'm about to confirm that I'll be there – wherever it is – when I get another txt. So I hit the end button and decline to save my draft before opening Kenny's txt.

_Cage fighting. 2Nite. Kyle's going 2 kick sum $$. _

"Kyle Broflovski?" I laugh. I can't help it. The thought of the skinny nerdy ginger Jew kicking anyone's ass is hilarious. Craig reads the txt over my shoulder. "Still – ack! - want to go?"

"Why not? It will be fun to see him get his ass kicked." I know without looking that Craig's little half smirk is there. So I txt Kenny telling him we'll go and asking for details. He never did tell me when and where it is. "Tonight at nine, downtown. At a place called Hell's Doorstep."

Craig reads over my shoulder. "Holy shit! That's a – gah! - horrible name!" I comment with a frown. "Y-you don't think its a-actually in Hell, do you?" In South Park you never really know.

I mean, the son of Satan goes to our school. "Its just a name." Craig responds. "I can't afford to miss any more school, so come on if you're coming." I jump up and grab my messenger bag. Mom and dad are already at work so we don't run into them.

The walk to school is cold and I wish that Craig would hold my hand or something. I'm not sure if this relationship is supposed to be a secret or not. So I shove my hands in my pockets. That's when I remember I forgot my thermos. "I-I gotta get some – nngh! - coffee!" I tell the noirette beside me.

Craig checks his phone. We're only ten minutes late at this point. "You can – gah! - go ahead." I inform him. Getting coffee before school is something I frequently do. Actually, I'm normally awake to get my own coffee-NyQuil mix.

Oh man, I forgot my NyQuil. How am I going to make it through the day? I feel my sanity slipping away like the tide. "Hurry up." Craig orders as he changes direction. Seems we're going to get me coffee together.

My phone vibrates and stormy eyes glance over. "Still txting McCormick." One of these days I'm going to find out how Craig can ask a question by making it sound like a statement. That didn't make a whole lot of sense, did it? I'm telling Kenny about Craig and I so my _iyeahi_ is a little delayed. "I don't know what you see in him."

"Funny, he j-just said the same about you." I laugh a jittery, nervous laugh. Then glance over to see if I've upset Craig in any way. I haven't gotten to sleep with him yet so I have to be on my best behavior until that happens. No, I'm not using Craig for sex. Probably.

I mean, the glittery stabby feeling I have isn't lust. Trust me, I know, I've been in lust plenty of times. Craig doesn't reply. I'm glad he isn't going to be an asshole about it and diss my friend. "You weren't dating him." Craig brings up five minutes later as we enter Harbucks.

"No. Kenny isn't my type." Ironic since we've been having sex since we were freshmen. I order quickly and my lifesaving drink comes just as fast. Black coffee is my preferred drink but I've been known to spice it up with other things. Other, legal, things that they actually sell in the coffee shop. Speaking of legal and illegal things; I drain a third of my coffee in a single gulp.

While I'm trying to figure out how to slip whatever substance into my drink Craig goes out for a cigarette. Just to be sure he doesn't see I turn around and dig through my bag. There has to be _something_ here to take the edge off living. I'm not as organized as I should be so it takes a while to find something suitable. Then I find it; a vial of Baileys. Its only for emergencies and even though I know this doesn't qualify, I take it out anyways.

I uncork the little glass bottle and tip it over. The liquid in my cup goes up maybe an inch. An inch of Baileys is all I have to get me through the day. Did I even bring my cigarettes? Probably not. "Fuck this day!"

The empty glass goes back into my messenger bag and I leave the store with no one any wiser. Craig is waiting for me still smoking. He glances at me without expression on his face. "Took you long enough." I roll my eyes and would have punched him in the arm but I have coffee so I don't. It would suck to spill this after we went out of our way to get it.

We start back to school with me sipping my drink and glancing around for any undesirable things. I know, its funny because I'm surrounded by undesirable things, but I'm talking about the ones that are more likely to kill me. "Kenny says w-we're having a – ack!- drug assembly." I tell Craig after glancing at my phone. Because I'm kind of a hypocrite I say something back about him being more knowledgeable than the person they sent to lecture us. I mean, I am the heroin addict.

I squeeze the phone in my hand. No I'm not! Craig is looking at me like I'm crazy, which I wouldn't doubt it if I was. But behind that look there's a solid steel wall, like he doesn't want me to know what he's thinking. I bet I can guess. "Any particular drug."

I didn't think to ask that. When I do Kenny tells me he doesn't know. Naturally. Now he's asking where the fuck I am. "Nngh, with Craig you i-idiot."

I mumble out loud. Txting with one hand is slower and slightly harder so when my phone goes tumbling to the icy ground I'm not really surprised. For a moment I just stare at it. Carefully I bend over to pick it up, but my coffee is about to spill so I go to stand back up properly. My boot slips on the ice and I fall backwards, sloshing the coffee but thankfully not spilling it. My butt hurts.

Craig scoops up my phone and shoves it in his pocket before taking my coffee and offering me a hand up. I accept it with a mumbled thanks. Only to have my boots slip again, this time propelling me forward into Craig. We both go falling onto the sidewalk again. Well, actually, I land on Craig. Somehow my coffee has managed to stay in its cup.

"Ow. Fuck." I let out a giggle that sounds insane even to my ears at Craig's apathetic show of pain and distress. "Are you accident prone or something." Craig grumbles as he removes me from his body and stands up. This seems familiar, I think as he extends a hand.

This time we manage to get me up and walking with no problems. We get to school and slip into the assembly. Kenny spots us and walks over to me. "Are you insane?" He snarls and snatches my cup from my hands. "I told you not to use that hand!"

At first I had thought he was talking about the Baileys and I'm relieved that he isn't. Except that he's right, I shouldn't be using this hand. "Sorry. Ack!" I apologize with my head hung. We take seats near the exit and I start to listen to what the guy standing in front of us is saying without really paying attention to him.

When I finally lift my eyes up to look at the guy talking I have to stifle a gasp. The man standing in the center of the gym looks almost exactly like me. The differences are his hair color and wardrobe but other than that he has the exact same demeanor as me. His eyes look around wildly, his entire body is quivering, he makes unnecessary noises, his frame is tweaker thin. I notice bandages peeking out beneath his sleeves. What did he say he was doing?

A second later I have an answer. Heroin. Craig has a firm grip on my right hand. I glance at Kenny and see him take a sip of my coffee. He makes a confused expression that turns thoughtful yet concerned. Obviously he tasted the Baileys and is wondering why its in there.

The assembly is long and takes up all day. We're given fifteen minute breaks twice to stretch, eat, and use the restroom. All the while I can sense Craig's quiet anger at what I was unwittingly doing. Its like mom being mad at me and I feel meek. His anger is properly putting me in my place. The weird thing is he doesn't say anything about it.

Not a peep about how I could end up like that or worse, dead. Nothing about what a terrible unhealthy person I could become or what a lousy boyfriend I would make. Craig doesn't say _anything _and its driving me insane. During the second break I finally pull him away from everyone else. "Say something." I demand.

Like the smart ass he is, Craig says "Something." I scream and both hands go to my hair. I yank on it hard and am slightly horrified when a clump comes out. When Craig sees this he takes both my hands in his and clasps them together. "What do you want me to say, Tweek."

I'm trembling worse than the heroin addict in the gym. "I-I don't know." Craig gives me a look that says he does know that I know what I want him to tell me. "I want y-you to t-tell me how – nngh! - wrong it is and w-what a – gah! - bad person I am and how I'm going to – ack! - be a lousy boyfriend. I-I just -" Craig's finger on my lips cuts me off. His blue-gray eyes are calm like clouds before a storm.

"You already know all of those things without me telling you." He points out gently. "And you promised that you won't do it again." I did? Oh, right, I did. While I was on heroin.

Sweet Jesus I'm going to die. "And you believe me?" Okay, not such a smart thing to say but it just slipped out. Hopefully it didn't sound too _in spite of promising I'm going to do it again_. Craig's only response is a nod and a kiss on my forehead. The kiss makes me smile.

That is until Eric Cartman shows up. I've never liked the douche bag fatass. "Ooh, look at those two faggots." As if Cartman has any right to call us faggots. When I glance at Craig I see him looking a little uncomfortable. Just when did he come out of the closet anyways?

I grab Craig's hand. "Yeah? It's not – ack! - like you have any right to call us faggots. Everyone knows you suck Butters dick and – gah! - feel up Kyle." The last one is something that I think only I noticed. Cartman can be a sneaky bastard when he wants to be.

Indeed, the fat brunette tenses up. His amber eyes narrow and I feel myself shrinking back next to Craig. Don't be a pussy, I tell myself. "I am not gay." Cartman growls out. He looks like he wants to hit me.

If he does I'll hit him back. Cartman has always been somewhat of a pussy when it comes to fighting. "I bet you think you're – gah! - so sneaky but everyone knows about the boner y-you have for them." As well as being a pussy, Cartman is in serious denial of his sexuality. I think I have issues, Cartman probably has more. Those amber eyes are narrowed dangerously.

"Say that again and I'll make you eat your parents." Cartman did that once, I know. He killed his dad and made his half brother eat him. The thought would be scary, but honestly the only thing that worries me is losing my mom. She may not make the money around our house, but she's the one I love the most. Don't all kids love their mom the most?

Cartman's threat actually makes me laugh, though. "I'm a – gah! - vegetarian, dumbass." Where on Earth did I get the impression it was okay to stand out so much? This is probably worse than mixing up with Craig Tucker. I seem pretty determined to die an early death. "Do your worst."

A sparkle comes into Cartman's eye. One I don't like. If I could take back my last three words I would. Craig squeezes my hand, but whatever message he's trying to convey I don't get it. Before the fatass can say anything else, Craig speaks up. "If you want to live to your next birthday, you'll leave Tweek alone, fatass."

Craig's eyes are choppy ocean waves. A furious sea god is snarling within the dark depths of his gray-blue eyes. Right now, if Cartman did _anything _to hurt me Craig would kill him in an instant. It sends a rush of adrenaline through my veins. Cartman, however, just laughs and walks off muttering about fags. I can feel my pulse throbbing all over my body and my heartbeat roars in my ears.

The noirette slides an arm around my waist. We wait until the pig is out of sight before returning ourselves. "Are you okay." I have no idea what Craig is referring to. Its been a pretty stressful day so far. At least we haven't fought yet.

But still, with this heroin junkie being shoved right in my face...and knowing about the promise to Craig...its a lot to deal with. I'm a little addicted to Diamorphine but no one has cared enough to try and get me to stop. Its not like I can just _stop_ taking it. "N-Not really." I answer honestly. Craig just nods and kisses my forehead.

No one is really eager to return to the assembly so we're one of the few groups of people in the gym. "What can I do to make it better." Has anyone ever said that to me? No, I don't think so. Not even my parents or supposed friends. I'm not actually a pussy like this, but I burst into tears.

Craig looks startled briefly before his expression returns to its normal blankness. "I'm sorry – gah! - n-no ones ever cared before." His eyes are sad like puddles of rainwater at a funeral. Strong arms lock around me and I'm tugged onto his lap. I squirm a bit before getting comfortable and resting my head on his shoulder. My breath flows over the sensitive skin of his neck and I find myself wishing we could have sex right now.

Being Craig's boyfriend means that I'm not getting any sex. In fact, I haven't had sex since Kenny came over last. Whenever that was – probably a few days ago. Craig is a total tease and all of that expectation is kind of blown when he stops me from even getting totally naked with him. Its worse than being cock blocked. Okay, maybe not worse. And maybe it has only been a few days since I last got laid.

But the thing about Craig is he's so _good_ at turning me on and then it doesn't go anywhere. I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to fuck him senseless but haven't been able to. Or for that matter, how many times I've had to ignore my hard, throbbing, boner. "Whats on your mind." I start at the sound of Craig's voice interrupting my thoughts. He's still concerned, I can see it in his gorgeous eyes.

"Nothing. I was just thinking about the fight tonight." A lie. Then again, our last fight led to some good stuff. Until dad came and ruined it then I ruined it further by getting high out of my mind. Goddamn it.

The other students have entered the gym by now and have pretty much settled in. That was our last break so I'm stuck here listening to this guy tell me how my life is going to be if I don't get sober. What if I can't get sober? I mean, right now I'm buzzed from the Bailey's. Am I going to be stuck taking this shit for the rest of my life? Craig will never want to stay with me forever if I do.

Wait, what? Forever? Who said anything about that? For all I know I'm just a passing fancy of Craig's. For some reason the thought makes me a little depressed. "Does he really feel up Broflovski."

I nod. If there is one thing Eric Cartman is sneaky about, its being with Kyle. The fatass and Kyle have a sort of game they play; a game of Russian roulette. The subject of those two makes me really uncomfortable. I wonder if its a good idea to go to Kyle's fight tonight. Will Cartman be there?

"Sick. I thought he and Marsh would get together." Everyone does. Even I do, though I see Cartman obviously feeling up Kyle and Kyle not doing anything about it. They talk to each other in German too. "Whats on your mind."

Craig asks again. "I don't think – nngh! – Stan and Kyle are going to get together. Cartman wouldn't l-let that happen." A slender black eyebrow is raised in question. "Cartman and Kyle are gay for each other but its kind of a love-hate relationship." I explain quietly.

"No one else k-knows." My fingers curl and my nails dig into my palms. "Everyone – gah! - thinks that they are fighting. A-and they are...but there's more to it." I try to elaborate. "Its really complicated."

Craig is nodding, I think more because he knows I can't explain it than because he gets it. Like I said, the assembly goes on all day. When the bell finally rings I feel like we should have stayed in bed. Maybe I would have even gotten laid. Jesus Christ I need to get sex out of my head. Craig takes my hand and we're walking down the street.

"C-Craig, where are w-we going?" He shrugs when I ask. The corners of my mouth tug down in a frown. I yank my hand out from his. "I-I can't." A sigh comes from my boyfriend.

The noirette stops and turns to look at me. I can't see his eyes so I haven't got a clue what kind of mood he's in. "Trust me, okay." How can he say that so easily? I hardly even know Craig. My eyes drop to the ground because I'm burning with shame.

Shame at what, I don't know. I feel like maybe I've done something wrong. Even though I'm screaming inside for Craig to come here and wrap his arms around me, he doesn't move. Slivers of fear rain down on me. "You don't trust me." Its not a question. "Why."

When asked directly like that its hard to come up with a good answer. "Because y-you're a thief and you're using m-me. And you know all my secrets! I can't trust you, man! You probably work for the CIA!" I'm yelling the last part and a wave of terror overtakes me.

I'm not exactly a rule breaker, aside from skipping school and stealing things on occasion. And apparently being a heroin addict. Since we're still minors most of my drawings are child porn. And he knows about mom's abuse. He knows everything about me! Jesus Christ I should have been more careful!

My entire body is trembling with fear. Fear that I was wrong to trust Craig, even though I didn't even _think _I was just so happy he was hanging out with me. That is, after I got over my initial fear of immediate death. Why on Earth did I let my guard down like that? I want to run away but fear of Craig's reaction is keeping me rooted to the spot. So far all he's done is stare at me but maybe if I don't move he won't be able to really see me...

"What have I done to make you not trust me." Craig challenges me. Didn't I just tell him? He shoves his hands deep in his pockets and fixes his hard stare at me. Now his eyes are like steel. I imagine this is what everyone else sees when they look at him.

I fidget. "You stole my lighter and kidnapped me and beat me up and went through my stuff." My golden eyes watch Craig take his right hand from his pocket and look at it. He flicks it open and closed a few times. Then he catches my eye and tosses it to me. I fumble the silver Zippo but manage to catch it.

Carved into the side with sketchy lines is _Fuck you Tweek_. Its underlined a few times and I find myself wondering why. "See? You hate me!" To my surprise, Craig blushes lightly. Fuck you is a negative thing, right?

My brain is swimming as I try to analyze whatever Craig is trying to tell me but I just don't get it. Our first day being boyfriends and I'm questioning it. When I drag my eyes back to his blue-gray ones I see that he looks very uncomfortable. It must take a lot to deal with me. "I-I can't give you yours back yet."

Because I haven't super glued the sticker to it. I don't want him to really hate me and rip it off. "So – nngh! - keep mine. Then we'll trade back." And I toss it back to him. We stand there in a silence that stretches on for years.

"I'm taking you out to eat." Craig finally breaks our silence. Craig is taking me out for dinner? Now I feel like more of an asshole for causing trouble on our first day as official boyfriends. I don't really count last night since that was at night and we went to bed after that. Okay, so we made out then went to bed.

"Oh. Well why – gah! - why didn't you say so?" I grumble. Now things are awkward. Great. And of course he has to say the cheesiest sweet boyfriend line;

"I wanted to surprise you." I take a few steps towards him and after a second Craig puts his arm around my shoulders. Its kind of weird walking this way but I like being close to him. The noir doesn't say anything else. I let him lead me to a restaurant a few streets away. Its nothing fancy but its good enough for us.

As we sit down in a booth I notice the waitresses eyeing him like he's a piece of candy. Jealousy rears its ugly head and I lean across the table to kiss him. Craig is _my_ boyfriend and the sooner these cunts realize it the better. The noirette doesn't miss a beat and kisses me back. I feel a million times better when I see their disappointed slut faces turning away. Our kiss lasts only a few seconds and when its over we both lean back.

I'm almost smiling and Craig looks satisfied. Beneath that, though, he looks worried. One brave waitress brings us water and asks if we want to special of steak and mushrooms. Craig says yes and orders a coke. I order a kid's chicken strips meal, which comes with a coke. "When did you come out?"

I ask when she leaves. Although his facial expression gives nothing away, his eyes are troubled again. I wonder why I can read him so easily. "Two months ago when my dad caught me kissing a guy." A guy; no name attached to it. Only two months ago; no wonder he's so shy about it.

Although its really none of my business, I ask anyways; "Who were you kissing? Ack!" I'm not sure I really want to know. Do couples usually talk about their old lovers? Probably not.

Craig is really blushing now and the expression in his eyes tells me he wants to be anywhere but here. It piques my curiosity. Then his face dissolves into neutrality. "Butters." Huh? At my confused expression the noirette elaborates;

"My dad caught me kissing Butters." Butters. I should have known. Everyone kisses Butters. He's one of the few gays _to_ kiss. Then again, most of our junior year is homo; at least the insiders are.

"So, you like blondes." Its the only safe thing I can think to say. Craig glares at me. "I kissed him too – gah! - when I first thought I was gay." What exactly was I hoping to accomplish by telling him that? "But that was a while ago."

"He's the go-to guy when..." Craig mumbles. I take a drink of my water and long for coffee. I don't think Butters has any attachments at the moment. But I haven't talked to him in a while so I don't really know. I should probably remedy that.

"Would you have dated him?" As well as being the guy who gets a lot of kisses, Butters is also the guy who has a lot of boyfriends. People think they love him or will never have anyone else so they ask him out. Only to dump him when they find someone else. Its sad. I was one of those boys, but I dumped him for a different reason.

I saw that he was hurting because of my freakouts and abuse. He wasn't dealing well worrying about me so I asked if we could go back to being friends. "Maybe." I try to imagine Craig and Butters together but its hard; like trying to fit together the wrong pieces of a puzzle. Butters needs light and affection in his life. Craig is dark and nearly unreadable.

Besides, Craig is in pretty much the same boat I am and Butters wouldn't be able to deal well with that. In spite of this I want to know Craig's reasoning. "Why not?" I press. The waitress brings our drinks and I notice that her hair is blonde. I feel like I know her from somewhere.

"He's cute but he isn't really my type." Craig must have a thing for crazies then. I keep staring at the waitress until it hits me that this is Lexus, Butters girlfriend from when we were kids. She winks at me. I tear my eyes from her to stare at Craig. Craig is sipping his soda.

I notice he took the straw out of his drink. I take the lid off mine and swirl the soda around with the straw before letting it go and watching it move in rapid circles. "You don't like cute – argh! - blondes? Then w-why are you dating me?" My eyes flicker up to him then back to my drink. Mom crosses my mind and I hope she's okay.

Maybe I should have called her. "You aren't cute." Well that's a blunt blow to my shitty ego. "You're sexy." My jaw literally drops. _Sexy_?

_Me_? "I am not. You're the s-sexy one." Craig's expression is smug, telling me that he knows its true. I roll my eyes. Lexus comes back with our food and we both dig into it.

After about five minutes of uninterrupted eating, Craig looks up at me. "Why do you get kids meals." He asks between bites. I shrug. The real reason is that I hate food. Being poisoned does that to you.

"After this, I have to get home." Craig informs me. I nod acknowledgment. "I'll meet you at eight-thirty tonight at your house." Oh, right, Kyle's fight is tonight. I should txt Kenny to see if he's going to meet us at the fight or before then.

We finish up eating without a lot of conversation. He pays. Craig walks me home and after a quick kiss we part ways. When I open the door someone throws their arms around me. I scream and push them away before I realize its my mother. We stare at each other, me tense and her relaxed.

She knows better than to do that! But when I look into her eyes I don't see anything I don't like. She's just plain mom. "Good afternoon, sweetie." She greets me with a cheery smile. "How was school?"

School? That was forever ago. "It was – ack! - okay." I reply. "I have plans later t-tonight with Kenny and Craig. So I – gah! - probably won't be home tonight."

Mom beams at me, so happy that I've finally made friends, and floats away into the kitchen. I head up to my room after muttering a hello to my dad sitting in the living room. Should I shower before the fight? I sniff myself then decide that I smell like cold. In my mind this is an acceptable scent. So I lay back on my bed to stare at the ceiling.

If I could, I would paint my ceiling. I would draw something beautiful on it. But I can't work on a ladder upside down trying to paint. The last time I tried that I ended up stabbing myself in the back with a paintbrush. Don't ask how I managed that because I don't have a clue. And of course I don't want someone else's artwork up there.

I glance over at my laptop, unused these past few days. When was the last time I watched any anime? Jesus Christ, its been too long. I need my fix of cheesy romance and dark twists. Recently I started a new one called _Deadman Wonderland_. Its pretty good so far and I'm only on episode 2.

So I get up and bring the slim black laptop to my bed. I boot up the internet and go to one of my favorite places to watch anime for free. _Deadman Wonderland Episode 3_. Sweet. I plug in some headphones – headphones not earbuds because I like headphones better – and turn on the volume. While the video loads I scroll down to read the comments...AND SOMEONE LEFT SPOILERS!

"GAH! NO!" I close my eyes and try to scroll back up without looking any further but its too late; the damage is done. "AHHH! I DON'T WANT TO – NNGH! - KNOW THAT RIGHT NOW!" I'm a strong believer of _not _spoiling things for other people.

"Just because you p-put the word spoilers there doesn't make it okay to post that shit!" I watch it and yell things at the screen. My parents pretty much know to ignore me by now. Not that they ever really check on me anyways. I find out that episode 4 doesn't have subtitles, which annoys the hell out of me. By the time 8:30 rolls around, I've gone through most of the episodes and am in a right bitch fit over the injustice of them only having 12 goddamn episodes of _Deadman Wonderland_.

It just isn't fair! The doorbell ringing makes me scream as it rips me from a world where blood is a weapon and prisons are amusement parks. Being stubborn I let my parents answer the door and Craig come up to me. When he opens my door I glare at him. "Do you not want to go." Is the first thing he says to me.

As I shut my laptop and set it aside I pout. Anime gets me in a really weird mood. I get off the bed and huff past him. "Whatever." I'm sure he's wondering how I could go through so many mood swings today and still be a male; its a talent of mine to act like a PMSing girl. Craig follows after me.

Sure enough he asks, "What the fuck is your problem." I head out the door after calling goodbye to my parents. And ignore Craig until we're on the street. Its only then that I remember I never txted Kenny. Oh well.

"I'm – gah! - sorry! I was w-watching – nngh! - anime." We walk down the street to the bus stop. When I glance at him I can see that he doesn't believe something about what I said. "What?" I growl out.

Craig shakes his head. "I wouldn't peg you as an anime freak." I twitch at the word _freak_. "I should have known when I saw you outside the game store." Or more accurately, when Craig saw the Chinpokomon on my lighter. His nasally tone is emotionless so its hard to tell if he's mocking me or not.

"I _like_ anime." I rudely inform him. I look away pouting over the snow covered forest. Who knows what dangers are in those thick woods? My mind conjurors up demons slinking through the trees with too many joints that creak and crack every time they move. Or maybe they really are there.

Craig takes my hand. The nightmares vanish. _This _is real. _Craig_ is real. "There isn't anything wrong with that." The noirette tells me in an emotionless voice.

I stand up on tiptoes and kiss his cheek briefly. The bus smells like babies. There's only one mother sitting by the door and holding a drooling little brat. In the back is a man who looks like he's dressed in rags. And near the middle are a silent group of tattooed guys in blue. Sitting in their midst are Jimmy and Timmy.

Jimmy sometimes hangs out with Craig's group, and sometimes hangs out with Stan's group. Timmy is usually with Jimmy, or the Crips, but can sometimes be found with Stan's group. Jimmy waves to Craig. Craig just gives a cool guy nod and we sit down between them and the mother with the baby. I cling to Craig because buses kind of gross me out and I know that Craig is the only sanitary thing in here besides me. "I like classic movies."

Craig's quiet voice in my ear causes me to start. I peer at him, wondering if he's serious. His expression tells me he is. For some reason I can imagine Craig in a different time, looking devastatingly handsome in regal clothing of the time period. Not that he doesn't always look devastatingly handsome. I can't believe that he's my boyfriend. I must be dreaming; and if so I never want to wake up.

We get off the bus fifteen minutes later outside the place. It has a grunge look to it that has me unsettled some. At least I know we're in the right place. Kenny walking out of the building smiling proves it. "You made it!" he clasps me on the back and I wince.

"Welcome to Hell's Doorsteps, gentlemen." Kenny leads me away by my shoulders. I look over my shoulder to see Craig following silently with stormy eyes. He's upset. The corners of my mouth turn down in a frown. "Watch out for that puddle, Tweek."

I barely manage to avoid the puddle of unknown substance. Oh fuck, _germs_. "I meant to ask you earlier, but, did you get in a fight?" Kenny asks me. We sit down in the front row, which the blonde has apparently saved for us. "Your face is fucked up, man."

"Thanks – nngh! - asshole." I grumble and cross my arms. Craig puts an arm around my shoulders, advertising to the entire place that we're gay. Its not like I personally mind if everyone in the building knows that I'm a faggot, but Craig seems to have closet issues. Maybe he's finally coming out. Sort of.

The fiery redhead we came to see is in the cage beating the shit out of some poor guy. I know, _Kyle Broflovski_ is fighting. I didn't know he was into this kind of thing but then again I don't know a lot about him. Kenny tells me that Kyle fights in these cage matches to vent his anger and that he's been doing it since we were freshmen. I wonder who taught him how to fight. If I remember right in grade school Kyle could hold his own but he was generally pretty peaceful except when it came to Eric Cartman.

I've never wished that my wrist wasn't broken more than I did when I saw Kyle fighting. It was like unleashing a volcano on the opponent. When I watched him fight, it made _me _want to fight. This wasn't ordinary fighting either; it was the dirtiest street fighting I've ever seen. And Kyle Broflovski was definitely better than either Craig or I had given him credit for.

That's not to say he didn't take his own hits, but there was just no home for his opponent. Beside me, Kenny cheers wildly when Kyle is deemed the winner. The redhead looked positively homicidal. I quickly found out the rules: 10 seconds on the floor or unconscious and the other guy was winner; no weapons allowed; fighters could go as many times as they wanted but it had to be every other match; and if your opponent is unable to fight anymore you aren't allowed to keep going. I wondered how the redhead managed to win every fight. I look down at my broken wrist and remember the fight with Craig.

Neither of us had held back. If I hadn't distracted Craig with that kiss things could have turned really ugly really fast. The next fight I pay no attention to. Kyle comes back, just like I thought he would. They are asking for volunteers. I stand up and walk over.

"I will." Kenny suddenly falls silent. I hear whispers around me. They see my brokenness and think that I can't get past it. I'm about to prove them wrong. Kyle is the only one who doesn't seem to care.

His green eyes narrow at me. They scream volumes of rage and insanity. No wonder he fights."I'm not going to go easy on you, Tweek." Kyle's only warning. I step into the cage and face him.

"Good." I'm steeling myself up for this fight. If he gets a hold of my head he could crack it open on the steel bars of the cage. There are thousands of ways that I could die. Kyle steps into the cage. The door slams shut behind him. When I look into his green eyes for a second time I see them change.

Its a well-practiced motion of Kyle's mind. He gets dark on the inside and I suddenly realize how he wins. Dark fire swirls around him. I feel weak, almost afraid. Kyle isn't looking at Tweek Tweak anymore. He's seeing Eric Cartman.

Kyle is a blur when he rushes headlong at me. His fist connects with my jaw and I feel a tooth coming loose. Blood spurts over my tongue. I fall backwards without trying to catch myself. Kyle stumbles forward with me, not expecting me to disappear like that. Before he falls on me I roll out of the way.

I aim a kick at the back of his knee but he moves at the last second and I hit his shin. Not so much as a peep is let out. He kicks me hard with the bottom of his foot. I scramble away so that I can stand up again. Kyle follows me and the look in his green eyes almost scares me. But adrenaline is spiking my blood and the fear melts away.

Like this I can't win. What the fuck. Of course I can fucking win. I'm not weak. I'm not pathetic. I'll make them all shut up!

With my lips curled back in a snarl like a dog I rush headlong at Kyle and dive. My head connects with his stomach, all of my weight behind it. The air _whooshes_ out of him. I pull back my fist and punch his eye. His head snaps back but his hand reaches out like lighting and takes a hold of my wild hair. His knee slams up into my cheek and I see stars.

I'm released and can feel the hatred from his stare as he stares at me, waiting to see if I'll push past the black creeping around my vision. I pretend to stagger around and grip the bars of the cage. Without warning I rush at him again. This time Kyle is ready for me and steps out of the way. An arm connects with my throat and I stumble back, coughing. On my way down I grab at his clothes.

My fingers slip under his shirt and I rake my nails down his stomach. Kyle hisses in pain and goes to kick me again but I barely manage to get out of the way in time. I still have a hold of his clothes and I drag him closer to me before kneeing him in the groin. He groans and his knees start to bend. I let him fall so I can knee him in the face. The redhead's head snaps back.

Kyle curls in on himself. The audience is silent. Silently I count to ten. Tentatively the announcer tells everyone that I'm the winner. I stare at Kyle.

Our fight wasn't as intense as mine and Craig's. It wasn't as ruthless and it didn't get my blood pumping like fighting Craig did. What does _that_ mean? That I like beating up my boyfriend? The thought is a little disturbing. They let me out of the cage and I go directly to Craig.

He kisses my forehead. I stare into his beautiful unique eyes. Without a word Craig takes my hand. We leave without saying goodbye to Kenny. Or looking back at Kyle watching us. I lean my head against Craig's shoulder and sigh.


	6. I'm So Addicted

Tuesday morning I get out of bed and groan quietly. _Everything_ hurts. It feels like I've been run over by a semi-truck. I stumble to the bathroom across the hall and start to dissolve some Diamorphine in a glass of water. When its completely liquid I take a needle taped under the sink and fill it to half the dosage I usually take. Then I fill it up a little more.

We can do this by eighths, so that its not such a total shock to my system. Like an expert heroin addict I find a vein in a second and insert the needle. My skin gives little resistance. I can feel the drug being pushed into my bloodstream and get a little head rush. Then the syringe is empty so I gently pull it out and wait for the bleeding to stop. To my dismay I notice a bruise starting to form in the crook of my elbow.

I'll have to start injecting in other places so that Craig won't notice. Or anyone else, for that matter. I re-tape the needle under the sink and get into the shower. The water is hot and feels amazing on my sore body. In the shower I don't bother to clean my hair or scrub the blood and scabs from my body; I just lean my head against the wall and watch water dripping down. I'm not sure how long I'm in the shower, but when I get out the bathroom is so foggy that I can see the steam hanging in the air.

"Tweek! Craig is here!" Dad yells from downstairs. Knowing that they will send him up I don't reply. Instead I hurry – except I feel sluggish so I'm probably not moving so fast – to dump the rest of my Diamorphine down the sink. Down it goes.

Craig knocks on the bathroom door. I wrap a towel around my waist. I unlock the door and prepare myself for the icy air that is going to come in with Craig. The cold air takes the breath from me and I slam the door shut after pulling Craig in. He takes a few deep breaths, trying to get used to the heavy air, and looks around. My body feels a little weak now so I lean against the counter before I fall over.

The noirette's gray-blue eyes scan me from head to toe and back again. "You look tired." He observes as he walks over to me. My grip on his jacket is weak. When I look up I see that the steam has dampened his hair so its pressed against his forehead. Suddenly I want him so bad I could cry.

Before he can see my eyes tearing up I drop my head. My tear-ducts prickle and I sniff. Gingerly Craig presses his body to mine, even though I'm dripping wet still. "Whats the matter." He murmurs against my ear. His mouth tickles and I shiver.

Lips press to the shell of my ear then against the lobe. They go down to the tender spot behind my ear and down my neck. My mouth opens in a silent moan. Lightly I tug on his jacket with my other hand. Craig's mouth is gentle against my skin but its enough to have me clinging to him and letting out quiet needy mewls. His lips travel along my collarbone and down to my nipple, paying it a little extra attention, before going down my abdomen.

I half open my eyes to see him kneeling in front of me. There is only brief hesitation as he kisses from one hip to the other while his hands work to unravel the towel. It falls lower and neither of us stops it. Craig kisses lower, pressing warm lips against my damp skin. I inhale softly. He reaches my base.

We've never gotten beyond this point. His lips kiss from base to tip. I'm more sitting on the counter now than leaning against it. Craig's tongue flickers over my tip and I give a breathy moan. He kisses and licks, never fully taking me into his mouth, up and down and sideways. Every kiss has me giving quiet noises of satisfaction.

After a while, I can't take it anymore and gently tug on his hair to get him to face me again. Craig gives one last kiss before standing up again. He kisses my mouth and I sigh into it. My arms loosely wrap themselves around his neck and his lay heavy on my waist. His tongue slides against my parted lips and enters my mouth. I let him have his way with my mouth and tongue, pressing gently back.

Its a slow and wet and sensual kiss. When the kiss ends we're panting lightly. I want to feel his skin and weakly tug on his jacket again. Craig gets it in a second and shrugs it off. When I go to lift up his shirt Craig does it for me, letting it fall to the ground. I tilt my head back as I draw him closer.

The noirette plants more kisses against my neck and I arch into them. Hands slide down my shoulder blades all the way down my back to my butt. I shiver as I wrap my legs around his waist. Craig takes in a shuddering breath as he presses against me. Beneath my hands I feel him tremble. Somewhere in my foggy mind it dawns on me that Craig _really_ wants me right now.

When I wince halfheartedly at his belt buckle against my manhood Craig leans back a bit and takes off the belt. His pants follow, and then his boxers. My breath hitches when we brush skin to skin. I feel him trembling tenderly. Craig presses his face against my shoulder, finding a comfortable spot for both of us, and inhales shakily. Patiently I wait for him to make up his mind to love me.

My hands run lightly up and down his back; over his butt; across his chest; against his firmness. I'm silently trying to sway his decision without being obvious about it. With lips just barely parted I kiss his neck, find a spot that makes his breath catch. On my hips his hands are shaking, tightening and loosening their grip. Slowly Craig exhales and I know that I've won. "I don't know-"

I put a finger to his lips and press closer to him, adjusting my angle a little bit and getting a better grip on his waist with my legs. For the first time I look into his eyes. They look uncertain and certain all at the same time. Craig is so heartbreakingly beautiful. Gently I take his member in one hand and put the other on his cheek to get his attention on me instead on what we're about to do. I capture his lips in a kiss as I guide him into me.

We both gasp, the sound muffled by our lips still connected. With a sigh I lean my head back against the mirror. Even though my eyes are closed I can tell that Craig is studying me, still, aside from the soft shaking of his body. I open my eyes again to stare into his. I kiss him again, gently leading him so he's leaning over me, until a moment later the back of my head rests against the mirror once more. When I look at him again its enough to make him start moving.

The noir is awkward at first but I don't mind in the slightest. It feels good, right, to be with Craig like this. The pace is slow, but much faster than that and I'm not sure I could take it quietly in my present condition. I breathe his name as I arch against his gorgeous body. He murmurs mine, nuzzling our cheeks together. In and out, slowly, it doesn't take very long for him to find my sweet spot.

I tremble against him, opening my mouth in a silent moan, and letting my eyelids slide closed. My hands run up and down his back, encouraging him to continue just as he is. Craig's breath comes in pants and tickles my shoulder; his hands cup my butt. Every time I want to kiss him again, I put on hand on his cheek to turn his face towards mine. Blind, I easily find his lips with mine. After a perfect century his nails start to dig into my skin and his thrusts become harder.

Lazily I drop one of my hands to my neglected member and stroke it. He removes my hand and uses his own at a faster pace. I tangle my hands in his damp black hair. Craig shudders as he releases inside me and his hands clench briefly. A drawn out but still quiet moan is let out by the noir. On the inside I feel wetter but this is only a brief thought because I'm reaching my own peak.

Craig captures my lips in an open mouth kiss as I fall over the edge of pleasure. We stay where we are, panting, for a few moments more. Slowly the noir pulls out of me. A soft pleased groan passes my lips. Gingerly I sit up and stretch my spine. The delicious scent of sex is heavy in the air.

I watch him through half-lidded eyes, searching for any regret but there is none to be found. All over I feel happy and content. Slowly I slide off the towel and let it fall to the ground to walk over to Craig. My arms snake around his waist and my head rests against his chest. His arms wrap around my shoulders and his cheek rests on my head. Mutely I usher him to the shower, briefly noting that its still quite fogged up in the bathroom.

I suspect this is from the heat we've created rather than from the shower earlier. Craig gets in without protest. When I turn on the water its hot immediately, something I'm grateful for. We hold each other beneath the spray for a while. Then I have Craig get on his knees again so I can reach and I wash his hair for him.

Its even silkier with conditioner in it. I smile at the fruity scent of the hair products. No one will mistake us for being anything other than lovers. When I'm finished with his hair he does mine; and I get to stand up for it, he's so tall. Being mindful of his wounds, I soap up his abused but attractive body while he does mine. His touch is feather light.

After all of the soap is washed away we get out. The bathroom is even hotter, steamier. I'm a little more awake than I was when he came over and my kisses have more enthusiasm behind them. Craig's kisses are also harder than before the shower. We end up back on the counter, and this time there is no hesitation. I guide him into me and the process begins all over again; but harder, faster, louder.

His skin is quiet against mine but our moans and panting makes up for the lack of sound. The friction between us drives me crazy. As best I can considering where I am, I meet him with every thrust. We reach climax faster but I am no less satisfied than the first time. Craig wraps a towel around my waist and then one around his and takes my hand. His hand is on the doorknob and before I can stop him the door is opened and we're making a mad dash for my room.

He barely pauses to close and lock my door before diving with me under the covers. We hold each other and laugh quietly. Compared to the bathroom its cold and I shiver against him violently. His hands are all over me, warming me. I want to tell him something - _anything_ to express how much this means to me – but I don't feel like its the right time. My eyelids slide closed and I fall asleep with Craig's scent in my nose.

I'm not sure how long our nap lasts but when I wake up I feel better than I have in my entire life. Beside me Craig is still sleeping. I kiss his parted lips then work on his neck. Before I leave any hickies I move on. My tongue drags and flickers across first one then the other nipple. In his sleep my boyfriend moans.

It makes me smile. And curious. With one hand I pay attention to one nipple and with my mouth I pay attention to the other. Against my abdomen I can feel him starting to get hard. Craig's sleepy moaning is a turn on. My heartbeat kicks up a notch.

I swing a leg over him so I'm straddling him. The noirette's eyelids flutter and then he's staring at me sleepily. A small half smile graces his face as he recognizes me. He rolls his hips up and a happy noise comes from my throat. I'm glad he finally decided to have sex with me. Also that Craig doesn't seem to be regretting his decision.

At least not so far. I try not to think about it too much. Instead I think about how good he feels inside me and how much I like his noises. Craig's tan hand strokes me and I_ purr _with pleasure. This has him pausing because I've never purred in front of him before.

I give him an uncertain smile and purr again. He gives me a crooked half smile."You sound like a vibrator." My face turns pink and I lean forward to nuzzle his neck. As I purr again, I rub my cheek against his neck. His hands run down my back and over my butt.

"And how would – nngh – you know?" I tease. Craig just gives a noncommental and moves my face towards his. We kiss a few times before something crosses my mind. "H-hey, can I do you?"

Craig's face is blank but I see little creases between his eyebrows. "I-I mean..." I let my hand trail down to between his legs near his entrance but don't make any move to do any more than that. It would be a shame to freak him out after all of this progress. Craig kind of gets an _oh_ expression. Then he looks a little uncomfortable.

I move my hand back up to his stomach and swirl my finger around in random patterns. "Can't I just do you." Another not question-question. As much as I love Craig fucking me, I want to fuck him too. But I just nod because I know he might not like it if I do anything else. His body relaxes and I didn't even realize he had tensed up.

He plants more kisses around my neck before motioning for me to flip over. My heart skips a beat as I comply. To be honest I only take it when Kenny and I fuck, and I've never been done from this position before. It makes me feel a nervous kind of excited. Craig's member is slick with pre-cum as he pushes into me. And directly hits my sweet spot.

A noise that makes my face turn red comes from me. I'm so embarrassed but Craig seems to be ignoring it. He pulls out except the tip and then slams back into me. The moan comes again and I rock back against him. As we continue I quickly realize that there is no hope for shutting myself up so I just let the slightly feminine moans out. His pace continues, faster and more frantic.

The friction is amazing. I grip the sheets in both hands and close my eyes. My back arches so that my butt is as up in the air as it can go. Pleasure rockets through me until I'm shaking more than usual. Behind me Craig's thrusts become harder and then he's shuddering. Hot wetness drips down between my legs.

I haven't came yet so I flip over and arch up against him, letting out a needy whine. In the back of my mind I wonder when I became such a bitch. Craig looks at me for a moment before bending and taking me in his mouth. More shivers rock my body and I do my best not to buck my hips and choke my boyfriend. As I get closer I try to tell him but the words don't come.

I do, however, in his mouth. To my surprise Craig swallows. I am not a fan of cum, but he apparently doesn't mind. As a reward I lean forward and kiss him lightly on the lips. Its odd tasting yourself on someone else. Actually, its just odd tasting yourself.

As I crawl over Craig I kiss him. "Where are you going." It must be a talent of his. One that no one else has. Carefully listening at the door I decide that no one is in my house but us. Regardless I pick up the towel which ended up across the room and wrap it around my skinny waist.

"Coffee." Is the only answer he receives. I'm down the stairs before I hear the noirette following me. He joins me in the kitchen, leaning on me and making it hard to do much of anything but be pinned beneath him. I whine his name, "Craig, I need a drink."

"I can give you something to drink." He whispers in my ear and I giggle. "No." Craig says but I can tell he's smiling. The noir releases me so that I can get my much needed caffeine. I make a quick pot of coffee and lean back against the counter.

Craig is giving me this look like I'm the only thing in the world he needs. It makes glass rain down on my organs because _no one not ever _has given me that look. Even though I am pretty sure I know what it means I for some reason can't bear to think of it. The noir kisses me. "I'll be upstairs." Then I'm alone in the kitchen. When my coffee is finished I pour a cup and sip it.

"Ahhh..." So very good. Coffee, sex, I'm set. My eyes land on the bruise on my arm. Craig hasn't seemed to notice it, which considering recent events isn't very surprising. Eventually he might but maybe I can pretend like its an old bruise.

Then again, Craig is probably some bruise expert by now. It occurs to me that I haven't _really_ been paying attention to his wounds today. After filling up my cup once more I head upstairs. Craig is sitting on my bed with the window open smoking. My parents don't know I smoke so I appreciate the window being open. I find my sketchbook, sit down, and begin to sketch Craig again.

This time I pay attention to his wounds. The bruise on his stomach still looks pretty painful, but its improved some since I first saw it a few days ago. Craig glances over at me then looks back out the window when he notices I'm sketching him. This one stays a sketch with only the bruises colored. When I set the drawing aside Craig speaks,

"Looks pretty painful. I didn't hurt you did I." It takes me a moment to realize what he's talking about. When I do I just shrug. Honestly I can't really feel the pain. Still on drugs and orgasming cuts pain in half.

Ocean eyes stare at me for a few long seconds before looking back out the window. Still looking out the window and smoking Craig asks, "If you took a drug test would it come up negative." I feel shame burning me and take a drink so that I'll have something to do with my hands. It must be answer enough because Craig nods slowly.

His black hair hides his eyes from view so I don't know what he's thinking. "Are you g-going to dump me?" I whisper. My stomach is twisted into knots of fear. As the silence stretches on the rest of my organs follow suit until I feel all twisted up and like I'm suffocating. "Craig..."

"I'm thinking." He informs me curtly. I'm shaking again but there isn't anything good about this. Oh please, still be with me, I pray silently. As still as I can I sit and watch him for any sign of whats going through his mind. Craig gives me no clue whatsoever.

Finally he looks at me. "Are you always on something." Without hesitation I nod. "So you're never sober." The glass has torn my organs to pieces. I'm finding it really hard to breathe.

And I still can't see Craig's eyes. "So how do you know you really want to be with me." I blink. "How do you know its not the drugs talking." How do I know? I...I just _do_.

"I've b-been on _stuff_ since g-grade school – ack! - because I can't – gah! - function right without it. I don't want to be sober." There is is, out, in the open. Our day was going so well too. If I was a pussy I might cry from the stress of this conversation. Too bad I can't take something right now.

Just to take the edge off. "I want you sober." Craig responds without hesitation. There is no way I can do that. _I would die. _My hands go to my hair and I pull hard on it, squeezing my eyes shut.

"I can't, man." I say. "I can't fucking do that." I get up to start finding clean clothes. My entire body is shaking so hard and I'm so tense I think I'm going to be sick. With shaking hands I pull on boxers and pants.

I fumble with a shirt before giving up and grabbing my house keys, lighter, and smokes. I don't even want to try and find my phone right now. Without a word more to Craig I trot downstairs. It breaks my heart that I don't hear him following me. Before I leave I slip on my shoes. The outside air is freezing - especially compared to our combined body heat from earlier – but I go out anyway.

As I walk down the street I light up an American Spirit. Why am I running away? Because Craig scares me. Why does he scare me? Because I don't want to lose him. My feet take me to school.

Its two in the afternoon and I'm shirtless but I go in anyways. Its not until I take a seat in my desk and someone whispers something that I realize unlike Craig, I'm covered in love bites. My face turns bright red. Token and Clyde are staring at me and Token nudges the chubby brunette. Clyde goes through his backpack and walks up holding a jersey in his hand.

"You want a shirt, man?" I accept it even though it smells like food and Clyde. If only it had Craig's scent on it. Clyde sits down in an empty desk in front of me. "What happened with you and Craig?" Craig must be txting them or something.

Honestly I don't think I can open up to Clyde. He just wouldn't understand. And people are listening. So much for Craig being in the closet. From the corner of my eye I Token sigh and gesture us over. Our teacher is oblivious to us, rambling on about abortions.

"You don't have to tell us everything, we just want to help Craig." Token says in a low voice once we're settled on either side of him. "He seems pretty tore up about something." Craig? Tore up? I almost find it hard to believe.

Even though I don't want to open up to either of them, they are Craig's friends. Maybe they can help. Or tell Craig that Tweek is fucking insane and shouldn't be dating anyone. "Craig doesn't – argh! - want me to drink or do drugs." I blurt out. It doesn't make me feel less miserable.

Token nods thoughtfully and Clyde has a sympathetic expression. "I understand the drinking, but why the drugs? Craig smokes weed all the time." Clyde comments. Craig smokes weed? I wonder if I knew that.

Token must see the question in my eyes because he answers it, "Craig's dad is a drunk." Suddenly it makes total sense. The bruises make sense. Okay, so the Baileys is understandably something Craig doesn't want around. "Its not weed you do, is it?"

It occurs to me that Token must be very good at reading Craig which is why he is having no problem reading me. Clyde's brown eyes go wide. "Really?" He asks, awed. I shrug but don't answer. What kind of drugs I take is really none of their business.

"I h-haven't been sober since grade – nngh! - school. I don't w-want to start now!" Before either of them can say anything the bell rings. As I leave I see them exchanging looks. Tomorrow I'll give Clyde his shirt back, but for now I just want to get out of here. Even though there is still a period left of school I leave.

While I walk, I smoke more. By the time I get back home there is a significant dent in my cigarettes. I'm no closer to finding a solution to our problem. The house is empty until I get to my room. Craig is sitting there still, by my window, smoking. I wonder if he moved at all.

After a brief hesitation I stand beside the bed. Craig snuffs the smoke on my windowsill and sets it down carefully. When he looks at me I feel my heart break. I peel off Clyde's shirt and crawl over to him. The noir gives me a curious sniff then frowns at something. Thirty seconds later I'm on my back naked with Craig's scent all around me.


	7. By The Way

After yesterday, I'm exhausted. Thankfully I got some sleep, empathize on _some_. Today I decide to dress in my favorite clothes; a black button up shirt, white tie, and black skinny jeans with converse. My sex hair from yesterday is attractive so I decide not to brush it. Looking in the mirror I don't feel nearly as ugly as normal. It actually brings a smile to my face.

This morning I decide to inject the 7/8ths of Diamorphine somewhere else, and choose the vein in my ankle. It hurts more than my wrist, but that's probably because I'm not used to it. Before I leave for school I super glue the sticker to Craig's lighter. On the way to school I smoke a cigarette. My mood is one I've never felt before. I feel on top of the entire fucking world.

If only I could feel like this forever. Since I get there early I'm one of the only ones there. "Dude, you're fucking glowing, Tweek." Kenny says from behind me. When I turn around I see Stan walking in one direction, Cartman and Kyle in another, and Kenny standing looking at me. How can Stan be cool with his crush going off with Cartman alone?

"I feel fucking – nngh! - awesome!" I reply with a small grin. Kenny clasps my back and grins a Cheshire cat grin. "W-what?" I ask even though I already know where he's going to go with this. We walk to my favorite bathroom to get a smoke in before school and share my good news.

"Oh nothing." Kenny replies innocently. He gives me a sly look. "I saw those hickies yesterday. Is that what's got you in such a good mood?" My responding smile is enough to make him let out a playful howl.

"So you finally boned Tucker." Something like that, I think to myself. He pushes open the door for me and I hand him a cigarette on the way in. Ignoring the germs I sit on the edge of the sink. "How was he?" Its hard to decide which adjective to go with.

"Amazing!" I sigh and close my eyes. The sweet scent of American Spirits reaches my nose. "Best sex ever." When I open my eyes I see that Kenny is reaching to high-five me and I slap my palm against his. He looks happy and relaxed so I'm glad that he's okay with me dating Craig.

"He had better be amazing. You don't deserve anything less." Sometimes when he says stuff like this it makes me wonder just what Kenny feels for me. But its so hard to take him seriously because he says stuff like this to everyone he cares about. Its a pretty big list. "Its nice seeing you happy."

Outside the bathroom something slams hard. I jump and Kenny freezes. "FUCK!" That's Craig's voice. Before I can tell Kenny, the blonde grabs me and hauls me into a stall. He makes a shush motion as I sit with my butt on the toilet tank and my feet on the seat.

When he leaves I lock the stall door. My heart is beating so fast I think Kenny can hear it. Suddenly the bathroom door slams open. Craig is pissed off something fierce. I wonder why Kenny hid me. The noir seems to pause as he takes in Kenny alone.

"Is he here." Probably talking about me. Kenny must have shaken his head because Craig says, "You're too poor for American Spirits and that's all he smokes." I never thought of the American Spirits as identifying. Now I'm almost wishing that more people smoked them.

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, Tucker. Tweek gave one to me earlier." Kenny replies calmly but cool. At the sound of my name Craig lets out a noise that sounds like a growl. The glass and knots come back. Whats wrong with Craig?

I thought everything was cool after yesterday. The noir had left in good spirits. "What the fuck happened?" Kenny asks, probably for my benefit. I wait impatiently for Craig's response. From the crack between the door and the wall I can see Craig standing where I had been sitting moments ago, back to me.

"None of your fucking business McCormick." I hear a quiet sigh come from Kenny. Suddenly Craig is grunting and shoes squeak against the floor. It sounds like there is a scuffle. After a few tense moments it stops. "Why the fuck do you care anyway."

Its a rhetorical question but Kenny answers it regardless. "I don't give a fuck about what happens to you, Tucker, but Tweek does and I swear to fucking god I will fuck you up if you hurt him." That's up there in the sweetest things people have ever said to/about me. I feel touched. Touched and worried. To stop my hands from shaking as much I clasp them together.

My knuckles turn white. "Fine." Craig growls. He sounds so angry its scary. "I can't fucking date him." What?

I think my heart has stopped. Kenny seems to have paused too. When he gets his voice back, the blonde sounds scary mad as well. "So you fuck him and leave him?" I hear a brief scuffle. "Even for an apathetic asshole like you that's low."

"Its not like that!" This is the first time I've heard any emotion in Craig's voice, other than yesterday but then he wasn't speaking. "I'm fucking tired of this! I'm tired of getting beat up every fucking day because I'm fucking gay! Yesterday should have been the best day of my life but when I got home my dad smelled the sex on me and...FUCK!"

Craig hits the mirror with his fist and it cracks. I hurt Craig. Craig got hurt because of me. I feel like the worst person in the world. "Yeah? Well at least there's a fucking reason your dad hates you."

Kenny replies evenly. "Butters parents think they are helping him. Mine are just drunk and high and stupid. And I'll admit, sometimes we fucking deserve it. But Tweek hasn't done anything wrong, ever. Tweek's mom beats him for no fucking reason at all."

"He loves her to fucking death and she's going to be the goddamn death of him." Through the crack I see Kenny grab Craig by the shoulders and spin him around. "I'm fucking serious, Tucker, his mother is going to kill fucking kill him one of these days. His parents are the main reasons for all of his troubles. So don't you dare fucking do anything to make Tweek any more unhappy than he already is."

Kenny knows? Of course Kenny knows. Kenny McCormick knows everything about everyone. I feel like a selfish failure, someone who doesn't even deserve to live. I also feel really stupid because Kenny is right about me and my mom. Everything she does to me I take like a bitch and one day she will probably kill me.

This doesn't mean I love her any less. "You don't fucking understand! Its not just me I have to worry about." I shrink back against the wall. Why don't I just say something? What the fuck do you say in this situation?

"I know! I have a little sister too, Tucker!" Kenny snaps. "I never said it was going to be fucking easy. Tweek probably cares about you just as much if not more than he does his fucking batshit insane mother." How is it Kenny knows things before other people do?

My face heats up for reasons I can't quite pin down. Craig is still torn up about everything. That's what Clyde and Token said, right? First my drug problem and then his father abusing him? Yeah, that is bound to take its toll. "Why do you care so fucking much."

This is a question I'm often too afraid to ask myself, let alone other people. And with good reason. "Tweek is reliable. He's more level-headed than he thinks and even though horrible shit happens to him constantly he never gives up." Sounds like Kenny may be my secret admirer or something. "He makes me want to keep living."

Craig takes this in. "He hasn't been sober since we were kids." Why is it always about my addictions? In the mirror I see Kenny wince. My foot really wants to tap but I force it still. Kenny gives a sad laugh.

In the mirror I see Kenny wince. "I can't say that's a surprise. Tweek guards that thermos of his like no ones fucking business." I look down at my converse and wish I could disappear. "Anything I say about drugs and drinking will be hypocritical." True story there.

Kenny turns into a totally different person when he isn't sober. I don't really like that side of him. "Look, I know shit at home sucks almost more than you can bear, but don't take it out on Tweek. If you do he'll never trust you again." Since when did Kenny know so much about me? Is this what he does; tries to keep me and home separate?

Why wouldn't I trust him if he told me about it or took it out on me? It feels like I'm missing something here. Saying it like Kenny says it makes it sound like I have it worse than them. Worse than anyone. Do I? And he's always looking out for me.

I feel miserable but wonder about this sister thing. Is Craig's sister the person he called the first night he spent the night? That conversation makes more sense now. "Being with Tweek is worth any beating you have to endure. You would do well to remember that, Tucker." Kenny says sagely.

Has Kenny ever been beaten because of me? Craig sighs in defeat even though I'm sure his bruises disagree with Kenny. His ego probably does too. The bell rings suddenly, causing me to start, and both teens leave. Eventually one of them will be back. I don't want to see either of them right now so I go to homeroom when I'm sure its safe.

Most of my time in class is spent with my head on the desk staring dead-eyed into space. None of the teachers ever call on me anyways. No one talks to me either, and for that I'm grateful. That is until lunch, when a Freshman girl walks up to me. She has orange-red hair but the attitude and blue-gray eyes I recognize instantly. She stares openly at me for a while with her hands on her hips before speaking.

"So you're the one my brother has been taking beatings because of." Did this have to happen now? Today? Her intense eyes examine me the same way his do. Suddenly she looks anxious. Related, but like their hair color, not entirely the same.

Her voice is as anxious as her expression. "Take care of my brother okay?" Confused, I blink and nod. Then its back to the blank face. "I'm Ruby, by the way." She says in her previous tone.

"T-Tweek." Though I suppose she already knew that. Her smirk tells me that she did. Without another word Ruby walks away leaving me to wonder if all Tuckers are like that. Somehow she's scarier than her brother. After that weird encounter I leave for lunch, going to the smokers wall across the street.

The Goths are there smoking and sulking as usual. Half way through lunch Kenny joins me. He doesn't say anything. Eventually I say, "Craig hasn't talked to me." It probably doesn't help that I've been avoiding him.

What do you do when your boyfriend wants to dump you and said this to your best friend while you were eavesdropping? I don't even know what to say to him. Am I still allowed to look at him and stuff? How can I when he doesn't want me? "He doesn't want me." I voice out loud.

Kenny lights a cheap cigarette. "I think he does. Have you ever heard him admit he's gay?" No, I honestly haven't. Craig is still technically in the closet, I think. And no wonder with parents like his.

"It could have been anger." I reply stubbornly, knowing where Kenny is going with this. That Craig cares so much that he doesn't care who finds out his sexuality. While I really want to believe in him, I also don't want to be naive. Its a real catch-22 for me. I take a drag.

We watch Wendy and Bebe walk by us. Bebe glances at me and smiles a little. I feel so confused that I can't even smile back. Curiosity gets the better of me and I ask, "Why do you say that?" Kenny smiles as he leans against the wall beside me.

"Because Craig would still be a virgin if he didn't love you." Love? None of us have ever said love before. I mean, not in this context. Not talking about me. No one loves me.

Mom loves me. I decide to skip over the strange topic of love. "How did you – nngh!- know it was his f-first time?" Kenny gives me a look. I shrug apologetically. Kenny knows everything.

We smoke in silence. The Goth kids have vanished from the wall, leaving us alone. "We haven't said the L word yet." I confide in the blonde. Kenny nods. It wouldn't surprise me if he already knew that.

"You will." How does he know? I ask him this. "I've been given a gift Tweek. The gift of knowledge." It makes sense in an odd South Park way.

When the bell rings we go inside. I purposely avoid Craig. It truly bothers me how he doesn't seem to care. Of course, its hard to tell since I haven't iactually/i looked at him and have only glanced at him from the corner of my eye. Spying on him in the bathroom doesn't count, either.

For the rest of the day there is no communication between Craig and I. Kenny keeps telling me that everything will be okay and will work out, but to be honest I doubt it. All day I've been racking my brains trying to find some way to help Craig and his sister but there isn't anything I can do. If I told on Craig's father – provided anyone even fucking_ listened_ to me – then both kids would be put into the foster care system since his mom would probably be arrested as well. Kenny knows first hand how awful the foster care system is and he wasn't there for very long. I just couldn't do that to them.

Plus I happen to be very selfish and want Craig to stay mine. Why am I so obsessed with the noirette? Its only been a week since I started talking to Craig and even less time since I started dating him. With a sigh I place my head in my hands. A shrill scream makes me nearly jump out of my skin. I mimic it, only to realize a moment later that its just the bell.

Looking around I blush and hurry away. I make it out the front doors of the school without seeing Craig. Negative emotions are the only thing getting me home at such a fast pace. By the time I actually get there the area around my ankles hurts from practically bouncing the entire way. As soon as I unlock my front door and push it in, I'm grabbed. Behind me the door slams shut.

I get a glimpse of shiny hair and my eyes widen. Oh please, not today. Mom drags me into the kitchen, surprisingly strong for someone so lithe. I expect there to be food on the table but there is nothing. Instead she drags me to the oven. "No!"

Cuts, broken bones, bruises, poison; I can deal with all of those easily. Burns, on the other hand, I don't like. They are my least favorite type of pain. Mostly because _the pain never goes_ away. "I'm only doing this because I love you Tweek." At her words I stop struggling.

That's not to say she still doesn't have to tug me over to the stove. The burners are already turned on, I see. Where is she going to burn me? I have my answer a second later when the sleeve of my left arm is pulled up. Pain explodes in my forearm. I inhale jaggedly as tears spring to my eyes.

Five agonizing minutes later and mom actually looks at me. "Oh, Tweek!" She release my arm and I yank it off the burner. The air _whooshing_ around it fuels the fire. "What happened to you, baby?" She reaches for my face and involuntarily I flinch back.

This makes her pause and when I force myself to look into her eyes I see pain behind the madness. It makes my heart hurt. "I-I..." But I can't force it out. Its not that big a deal - just me fighting and whatever is left over from my fall down the stairs – but I don't want to tell her. I swallow but it gets caught in my throat and I end up choking.

My mother coos over me, saying things that I don't understand, until dad gets home. He comes home smelling strongly of coffee. When dad walks into the kitchen he stops. The burners are still on and I'm kneeling on the floor with serious burns with mom beside me, arms around my shoulders. I want to push her away and convey this in the pleading look I give my father. Mom looks up at him and starts crying.

The tears are so unexpected that a string of unintelligible noises come from me. "M-Mom...I-I..." I look helplessly at dad. "What – nngh! - whats wrong?" Cautiously dad steps closer.

Was it me or him who upset her? Mom looks up at him. "Somethings wrong with him!" She sobs. Her arms retreat and I miss them. She wraps them around herself.

I look up at dad and shrug. Whats wrong with me now? He kneels beside us and mom leans on him. It breaks my heart. "Mom, I-I'm sorry." I try.

Still she sobs. "I'm s-sorry. Gah! W-what did I do? Tell me s-so I can – ack! - fix it." My burn forgotten, I take up a pose similar to hers.

The tears leak from the corners of my eyes. Whats wrong with me? Why do I have to be such a horrible son? We sit on the floor sobbing and not touching. I feel like an intruder in my own house. After a while dad catches my eye and jerks his head in the direction of the stairs.

Without a word I get up and race quietly up the stairs. The burn hurts so I race to the bathroom. With more force than is necessary I turn the sink to cold and put my arm beneath it. The water pressure hurts and I get goosebumps from the shocking cold to the hot redness. Now that I'm alone, paying somewhat attention, I can smell burnt flesh. The burn is crispy in some places and it scares me.

What do I do? This is serious but I can't go to a hospital. With my bandages hand I wipe the tears from my face. I take a few rapid deep breathes to clear my head but its hardly working. So I slow my breathing down and lean against the counter with my arm under the cooling water. Think logically, I tell myself.

What would Kenny do? Trying to keep my hand beneath the flow as much as possible, I start searching the bathroom for something to treat burns. Predictably there is nothing specifically for burns. For a few minutes I stand at the sink silently staring down at the bandages and gauze. This is all I have to work with. The burn is so hot that I don't think I can actually bandage it.

Besides, don't wounds need to breathe? My feet start to protest me standing on them. The second I remove my arm from the water agony tears through me. The fire flares back with a passion. I gasp as I break out in a cold sweat. Tomorrow I'll do something about it.

As much as I want to crawl into bed and put on whatever is in my DVD player, I don't want to leave the cool water. Then I come up with a plan and pull the hand towel from its rack. I wet it and put it over my burn. The weight is unpleasant but coolness washes over me. Now I can leave the freaking bathroom. Ignoring the water dripping onto the floor I walk to my room and close the door quietly.

Just as I sit back on my bed the door slams open. It ricochets off the wall behind it only to be slammed a second time. I scream and throw the little towel at whoever entered my room. There stands mom, make up kit in hand. "Don't worry, sweetie, no one will have to see your unsightly bruises." I worry because I have bruises around my eyes – although its almost difficult to tell because of the shadows that are there – and my split lip.

Who knows what she will do. "I-Its okay m-mom." I tell her but she's already entered my room. I wonder where dad is. The heavy makeup kit is dropped on my foot. I yelp at the pain but she doesn't seem to notice.

Instead, mom opens it up and takes out some coverup. Its spread all over my face nicely, except for the unnecessary pressure. She yanks my hair back into a pony tail before pulling out some eyeliner. Oh shit. It starts off nicely, normal, even. If putting makeup on your teenage son can be considered normal.

Then she moves on to the mascara. On purpose or on accident, I still don't know; but she _stabs me in the eye_ with it. I scream and flail, knocking it out of her hand. With my good eye I see mom pout. Like lighting her hand whips out and smacks me across the face. I sit there stunned as she glares at me.

And then dissolves into tears again. She slapped me. Mom has _never_ slapped me. Sure, she may have done worse things but somehow_ this_ is what has me pausing. My eye is watering freely, smearing the makeup she put on me. What do I do now?

We sit there in a heavy silence before I pick up a tube of lipstick and hold it out as a peace offering. She stares at it then at me and wipes her eyes on her sleeve. Mom accepts the tube and makes fish lips at me. I mimic her and she puts it on me. I half expect her to shove it down my throat but that doesn't happen. "I'll make you dinner, sweetie."

Then she clears up her stuff and is gone. I stare out into the hallway after her. And then I scream. Its a primal sound of pain and rage. On my floor I lower my head to the ground and let out another primal roar. My entire body is quivering when I stand up.

On my feet I sway before gaining enough confidence to haul my ass back to the bathroom. I get the feeling that I'm going to be spending a lot of time in here tonight. As best I can – which probably isn't very well – I wash out my eye. When I finally dare to look in the mirror I gasp. The Tweek looking back at me has a milky white eye where there used to be two golden eyes. I blink and close my golden eye.

And see _nothing_. Its black. "OH – ARGH! SWEET JESUS!" Water is still leaking out of that eye and I'm just relieved that there is no blood. If it was any worse I would have to go to the hospital. This is okay, right?

It will heal right? I really wish I knew what I did wrong. Why is mom so upset with me? Is it because of the fight? I swear I'll never fight again. Even as I make the silent vow I know that I will fight again, probably soon, because I still have to make up with Craig.

Not that I did anything wrong that needs to be made up for. A prickle of unease goes through me. Craig's decision to fuck me was solely his. If nothing else however long we've been together is testimony that he _could_ have said no. Did I take advantage of him? Fuck; my eye really hurts.

So does my arm. And my entire body. With the bathroom door wide open I reach under the sink for where my needle is taped. My hand shakes when I think of the sweet hit of relief. The delicious scent of blueberry pancakes makes me withdraw my hand. I have to be able to resist and if not then at least have the energy needed to throw all that poison back up.

I sigh when mom calls me, her voice as falsely sugarcoated as those pancakes. Aware that I've broken my own rule and made my mother cry several times today, I go downstairs at her call. There is a tall steaming plate of pancakes dotted with blueberries, butter, and syrup in front of my plate. Even though it smells good it doesn't make my mouth water or my stomach grumble. I'm in too much pain to want any food. Obediently I sit at my place, pick up my fork, and begin to eat.

My throat is so try and the food is so tasteless on my tongue its like trying to swallow sand. Sand probably wouldn't kill me. Maybe. Mom hovers over me like a vulture, watching me eat with insane eyes. Her expression is eager. I find myself wondering what happened to dad.

Then I wonder why he puts up with this. My face burns in shame because I know the answer. He loves her. The same as I do. So I shovel pancakes into my mouth, forcing myself to chew and swallow and try not to choke. Or hurl it back up in her presence.

When the last of the pancakes are gone I feel bloated and exhausted. Mom goes to clear the plate away...Then throws it against the wall in a fit of rage. She screams and storms around the kitchen, breaking two of our three coffee pots, and smashing dishes. With every shattering of glass I cringe. At any moment those dishes could be aimed at me.

Dad walks into the kitchen unannounced. Mom pauses in her rage to stare at him and I see something I've never seen before in her eyes; hatred. Is it just me that mom has problems with? The thought scares me because dad has always been able to soothe her. He sees it too – I can tell – but makes no reaction towards it other than holding up a plain brown paper bag. She stares at it then at him and back again.

I take this chance to sneak out of the kitchen. Neither of them even acknowledges I'm alive; which at this point may be a good thing. Immediately I rush to the bathroom. Well, I try to rush but if I go any faster than a slow walk I'm going to puke all over the carpet and I know that mom will flip out worse. I crawl up the stairs, tears blurring my vision, as I unintentionally bump my burn against the carpet. Finally I make it up that fucking mountain and into the bathroom where I proceed to empty my stomach of its contents into the toilet.

When there is nothing left to throw up I shakily stand at the sink. I wash my mouth out with water and mouth wash before taking a clean little glass cup and some Diamorphine tablets. Fuck quitting. I double the dosage I normally take and sigh deeply as the drug courses through my system. My heart is pounding three times faster than I normally does but I don't care as I wet an entire towel in the sink and drag it to my room. I flop down onto my bed and throw the towel over half my body, including my injured eye.

Cold rushes through me and goosebumps break out over my skin. I'm shaking so violently that my teeth are clattering in my head and my muscles are cramping. My breaths are slow and shallow in spite of the rapid heartbeats. With eyes wide open I stare at nothing. A Bassnectar song pops into my head and I replay it over and over again until its the only thing I hear. Nothing comes into my mind during this time.

Eventually the Bassnectar song fades away. I'm left without a sense of anything. I'm not even sure if I'm alive. In any case I can't feel my wounds. None of these thoughts I dwell on for more than a nanosecond. Eventually I close my eyes; whether or not I fall asleep is something I couldn't tell you.


	8. The Cruelest Thing Ever Said

My heart pounds in time to the beat of _Boomerang _by _Bassnectar_. Ever since a few days ago when my mom flipped out I've had an obsession with them. With listening to their music anyways. Right now their music is blaring in my headphones; rocking my soul and taking me someplace great. Being high as a fucking kite just makes it more amazing. I sit at my desk with my cheek flat on its cool surface; mouth and eyes wide open, probably drooling.

Kenny is staring at me from across the room. His blue eyes are concerned but I don't give a fuck. The other kids have been shocked into silence. Sometimes they try to say something about me but they always trail off before getting out more than a few words. My teacher seems to be having a hard time ignoring me now that I'm quiet, seeing as she keeps glancing my way. _I don't give a fuck about anything._

I've been listening to Bassnectar since this morning when I finally woke up. The two days I was out of it were the longest I've ever gotten sleep. My parents nearly called the hospital they were so worried about me. If I hadn't woken up by this morning I probably would have been dead and they would have had a corpse in their house. A corpse with obvious abuse and they would be put in prison for child abuse. An angry part of me thinks they deserve it.

They deserve to be locked up for the rest of their lives because of what they've done to me. Even dad deserves it; though he hasn't harmed me, he also hasn't stopped mom. Never once has that asshole tried to protect me from her. Kenny was right; there is no reason they abuse me. Any normal kid should have been taken to the hospital. Any normal kid wouldn't have these wounds.

With each music-synced beat of my heart, heat radiates from the burn throughout my body. It creates an interesting contrast to the cool of the room and desk. I still can't see out of my left eye but right now that doesn't bother me, particularly since that side of my face is smushed on the desk. Some time near what I think is the end of class Craig comes into the room. His cold, commanding presence fills the room and raises gooseflesh on my skin. Silver-blue eyes seek me out then flicker to the teacher.

"They wanted me to get Tweek for his medication." Since I'm so weird today the teacher happily agrees to get me out of her class. Craig waits for me to get up a whole thirty million seconds before realizing that I'm not moving. He grabs me by the arm and I yelp when his hand squeezes around my burns. Craig yanks his hand away as though he's the one who has been burnt and stares at me in something that I think would be classified as Craig Tucker's version of shock. I have long sleeves so he didn't see and I haven't talked to him in a few days but still I get angry at him.

People start whispering again but they still don't seem to be able to speak properly. I hardly notice Kenny tensing in his corner of the room. In a disarrayed huff I gather myself and try to stomp out of the room but it ends up more stumbling. It becomes pretty clear that my legs have failed me so Craig grabs me again – gentler and higher up on my arm – and leads me away. Its only when we get to the bathroom upstairs that I realize we aren't actually going to the nurses office. "But I need my medication."

I protest weakly. I pull away and spin around before falling. When I catch myself I cry out from the pain that shoots throughout my mistreated body. Craig picks me up by the collar of my shirt and shoves me into the bathroom. The door is locked, sealing us in this disgusting place together. For a while the noir just stares at me.

I sit on the floor because I don't want to see my reflection. Maybe if I don't see it I can pretend later that this is just a dream. Provided I remember any of this. "I think you're on enough medication." Craig says coolly. Anger boils up.

Bassnectar still pounds in my ears and even though its not, the beat sounds angry to me. "Yeah, I know a-all about – grah! - what you think!" I snap. Craig's expressionless face remains the same and I can't read his silvery-blue eyes. They still draw me in like water nymphs do sailors so I don't look at them long. "I heard everything, asshole."

Craig is suddenly looking uncomfortable. "You're p-pathetic. Take your – nngh! - beatings like a goddamn m-man!" What on Earth possessed me to say that I don't know. But there it is, out, and it can't be taken back. Although right now I don't want to take it back.

I'm so angry. I want to beat his gorgeous face in. The noir approaches and my body reacts. There is no stopping it; not on this high a dosage. I throw my arms around his neck. After a confused moment he rests his hands lightly on my hips.

So frustrated I am, that I nearly scream. And then Craig says something that will probably break my heart later. If I remember it. "Not when you're high." I stare up at him, my mismatched eyes looking into his gray-blue. His eyes widen when he sees my milky white blind eye.

Before he can comment on it, however, I say the first thing that comes to mind. "What do you think two days ago was?" I laugh and press closer to him. "I was high when you c-came into the bathroom. You – ack! - were too horny or whatever t-to notice." Craig goes rigid like the first time I hugged him.

Slowly he peels me off him, holds me at arms distance. Standing is suddenly difficult and I sit down right there on that disgusting tile floor. My gold hair falls in my face and I stare at him through it. Craig is just standing there. The instant he turns around I'm on my feet. Okay, maybe a few seconds after.

"Where the _fuck_ do you think you're going?" I snarl. My fingers curl around his arm like a steel trap. "_Don't you_ _dare run away from me_." The noir turns around, his stormy eyes unreadable to me just like they used to be. "_You _w-w-weren't supposed to be like _them_."

"If you just want me for sex then – argh! - tell me!" The topic seems to have changed from me on drugs to Craig leaving. But its all the same in my head. "Tell me so I won't have to c-care about you and you'll be like e-everyone else I fuck!" My damn eyes are watering again. Craig stares at me with that pretty fucking poker face.

My glass heart explodes even before he speaks. "Let go." Its all he says but it sounds like _I never want to see you again_. So I let go. Craig goes to walk out the door. I'm left feeling more hurt than I've ever experienced in my life.

"I hate you." I say quite plainly; like my heart isn't broken. "I HATE YOU!" I scream at him. "I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!"

"I HATE YOU CRAIG TUCKER!" I'm digging in my bag for some sweet relief. Something; _anything_. Craig is rooted to the spot. My fingers curl around a bottle of NyQuil. I take it out and pop the lid open.

Tilting my head back I put it to my lips and start swallowing it. I hardly pause to breathe. From the corner of my good eye I see that Craig is facing me again. He's saying something but in my rage I don't hear it. I'm fueled on a double dosage of Diamorphine, an entire pot of coffee, and whatever dad spiked my coffee with; probably Baileys. Now I'm downing an entire bottle of NyQuil.

It occurs to me that I'm probably going to die. No more liquid falls into my mouth so I toss the bottle away. Craig probably knows that something is really wrong with me by this point; more so than usual. His handsome face is etched with concern. Sure, now he's concerned. Now that I'm going to die.

I try to tell him to fuck off because I hate him, but my mouth doesn't make the proper words. Instead a string of noises unlike my normal ones come out. The vision in my good eye is starting to get blurry. The bathroom sways then the floor is rushing up at me. I don't feel the collision. The only way I know there is one is because something echos around the bathroom.

Time has literally no meaning to me. Craig sits next to me on the floor. His black hair hides his face from view. A few times I hear someone banging on the bathroom door. Inside the bathroom its quiet except for a drippy faucet. The banging always goes away eventually.

For all the reaction he gives, my boyfriend could be a statue. Eventually I feel less numb and more like shit. This is normally the point where I would take something or more of something but I don't even feel up to moving. Not that Craig would stop me if I tried. An unknown amount of time later, my stomach grumbles. Right, I should be starving.

Suddenly, thinking of food, I realize that I _am_ starving. I whine and it nearly gets caught in my throat. Craig hardly looks at me when he says, "Want to get some pizza." When I nod the noir stands up and heads to the door. He doesn't help me up.

It takes a moment of laying there on the gross bathroom floor before I have enough energy summoned to get up. When I do I tremble and grab the edge of the sink. _Fuck._ Craig doesn't help me get to the door or walk down the hallway. Is school even still going? The thought is fleeting because I have to concentrate on staying up and putting one foot in front of the other.

It feels like any second I could faint; which, I guess, I could. By all rights I should be dead. For some reason natives of South Park just don't die like normal people. So I put one foot in front of the other and cling to the lockers. I don't fall, though I do stumble a lot. And when I pause for breath I'm really gasping for air.

Craig waits with an impatient air as I continue on this struggle. When we get to the stairs I nearly fall down them several times. Why won't he help me! Getting to the school doors is almost impossible. Relief floods through me when I see Craig walking to a car. I didn't know he has a car.

Did I? Regardless of whether I knew or not I'm impressed. Its sleek and black and sexy. I bet the sound of its engine could make anyone hard. This coming from a guy who doesn't like cars. We get in and Craig is pulling out of the parking lot before I have my seat belt on.

By the time I get it on, we've pulled into the pizza place parking lot. I stare at him but he doesn't meet my eyes. Craig buys us a peperoni pizza. We eat it in silence. There has been too much silence but I don't even know what to say. I've said too much today as it is.

Afterwards he gives me a ride home without asking if that's where I even want to go. I don't bother with my seat belt. If I die then its on Craig's hands for being a dick. A prick of guilt stabs me but I ignore it; Craig started this. The motion of the car almost makes me sick, but I manage to keep the pizza down. I'm surprised when Craig gets out of the car after me and follows me up the walkway.

I walk into my house and pause by the kitchen. My parents take one look at me then turn away. I'm not sure why. Could it be because I'm so obviously injured? So obviously high? So obviously broken inside?

It doesn't matter that we've more or less made up. What he said will not go away. The same for what I said. With all my heart I want to have a fairy tale life with Craig. But life – especially in South Park – is not a fairy tale. I walk away from my pain and up the stairs.

The first thing I notice when I walk into my room is that I'm surrounded by Craig's scent. Its on my clothes, my bed, my floor and walls. The drawings sit below my window where I left them. Just a turn of my head and I won't be able to see them. They will no longer exist to me. But that's not entirely true.

A part of me wants to burn them. The broken part wants to erase Craig from my life and memories completely. I wonder if I would still be heartbroken and decide that the likelihood of this would be high. Craig is standing in my doorway. There's something broken about him too. But it does nothing to ease my own pain.

When I reach my bed I stare at it for a long moment before sitting and facing him. My lovely noirette with beautiful stormy eyes. "Do you want to – argh! - watch a-a movie?" I ask dully. Craig shrugs. We haven't touched since I don't even know.

Its killing me. With a trembling hand I gesture to a beanbag chair. Craig obliges with robotic movements. I go through my movies, flipping through disks until I find one that I think will not cause too much trouble. Its Eight-Legged Freaks. Not my favorite movie but its better than the Notebook or some other sad romantic.

I don't want to watch something with a happy ending, either. While Craig sits on my floor I lay on my stomach on my bed. We're quiet while the movie plays. Near the end where they blow up the mine I inhale sharply. The sliver of fear that goes through me is so shocking that I actually sit up. My hand goes to the bandaged burn on my arm.

Its heat can be felt through the bandages. Am I afraid of fire now? How will I ever smoke? Craig glances at me then looks back at the screen. Eventually I settle back down. My eyes tear up and slide closed.

An unknown amount of time later I wake up. Craig pants quietly somewhere in my room. My body feels heavy. Then I feel him move against me. I let out a soft sleepy noise. The noirette pauses.

Because there is nothing – and everything – to say I weakly press against him. Craig takes that as permission to continue. My body hurts and my high is for the most part gone. But I don't want to lose this connection we've made in the quiet dark. Craig leans down and nuzzles my neck. I turn my head to the side so I can kiss him.

He tastes so good. I want to tell him how much I care about him but I don't. If he doesn't say it back I know I'll die more on the inside. That is something I won't be able to take. "Spend the night." My voice cracks. Craig's hesitation is something I sense clearly.

"Ruby will be – nngh - okay." I try to persuade him. Just when I think he's going to say no, Craig nods his head. I flip onto my back and kiss him. Despite feeling like my arm is on fire and that my head is going to explode, kissing Craig sends a nice feeling through me. His tongue slides across my bottom lip and I open my mouth.

My lover's tongue slides across mine. But only for a second before Craig is retracting his tongue and putting distance between us. I almost whine at the loss of contact. "You taste like death." His voice is barely a whisper. His fingers thread through my messy blonde hair.

I don't answer because there's nothing to say. I feel his lips on my neck and shiver. My eyes slide closed. "What happened to your eye." His not question-question makes me smile, but only for a moment because I still feel like shit. "Why are you smiling."

"Because I like you." I answer honestly. My voice is slurred a little. I'm so used to lying that I automatically say, "I-I stabbed myself – gah - in the eye with – ack - mascara." Even though I feel the burn of Craig's stormy eyes on me I don't open my own.

"You don't wear makeup." Craig replies evenly. Against my chest I feel his heart speed up. Or maybe its my heart speeding up against his. I hate that he's caught me in this lie. Until I remember that its not entirely a lie.

"I do – nngh! - too!" I reply heatedly. The fire in my voice vanishes, "Besides, how would you – gah! - know? We've only – ack! - just started dating." Its strange to think that Craig hasn't been a part of my entire life, but now that I think of it we really have only been dating maybe a week.

I open my eyes to look at his reaction but as usual its difficult to tell. Particularly in this darkness. After years of silence the noirette sighs. "Okay." That's all he says about it. He rolls off me and sits up.

"You have any smokes." Its a pretty lousy question, I think. Here I am dying and he wants to bum a smoke off me. But I nod and get up to retrieve them from wherever I left them. Its been a while since I last had one. While I'm there I turn on my light.

I find them under the table, and my lighter in the pocket of a discarded pair of jeans. How very unlike me to be messy. Before giving Craig one, I push open my window and light up my own. That he uses my lighter doesn't escape my notice. A blast of cold air hits me but its refreshing. Looking out I notice that the sun has just slipped below the jagged horizon.

A cloud of smoke suddenly surrounds me. "I guess you wouldn't want to go to the doctor." I shake my head. Doctors are a no. Not only is the drug not totally out of my system yet, I also don't want mom to pay for something she can't control. "Didn't think so."

A sigh follows this statement, along with another cloud of smoke. I roll my head over to look at him. My poor boyfriend looks half as abused as I am. I wonder what his clothing hides. The thought it a little too much so I look over out the window again. Outside Kyle and Cartman are walking past my house, lost in a heated argument and radiating sexual tension.

"Ruby t-takes after – nngh! - you." I comment randomly. Craig gives a noise of confirmation. "She scares the hell out of me though. Gah!" This produces a small laugh from Craig, which makes me happy.

"Ruby can be scary when she wants to be." His voice is warm with affection. "She's a strong girl." I can tell that he really likes her. Having no siblings myself, I don't know what its like to have that kind of affection for someone. All I know is the abstract love for my parents and friendly lust for everyone else.

Well, except Craig. But Craig is different. To keep the conversation from dying I ask, "How did she know – argh! - me?" We aren't exactly in the same social circle. Then again, I'm not really in any circles.

Craig looks away for a moment and it piques my curiosity. Is he embarrassed? "She knows the password for my video journals." Say what? Video journals? A smile starts to creep across my face.

For some reason the idea is charming. Naturally Craig takes it the wrong way. "Don't you dare laugh." His voice is icy and sharp. I lean over to kiss his cheek to show I meant no ill will. Its only a peck because my American Spirit is calling me.

"I think its – nngh! - really cool that you – grah! - do that." Password-locked video journals? Sounds exciting. I wonder what they are about. Me, obviously, if Ruby is watching them and finding out about me. Suddenly I really want to get a hold of them, to watch all of Craig's journals.

The noir doesn't answer and I don't really expect him to. After inhaling deeply and exhaling a cloud of smoke out my window, I turn back to him. Something has been weighing on my subconscious and my conscious too since I heard it. "Do you really regret me?" I ask directly. The strength in my voice surprises me.

"I didn't say that." But it was heavily implied. Craig's blue-gray eyes have an uncomfortableness swimming in their depths. The noirette stands up and puts his smoke in his mouth. I watch him curiously as he lifts up his shirt then switches his cig from his mouth to his hand. He raises his shirt to his neck and hides his face behind it. Looking at him, I can't help it, I cry.

My beautiful noirette with his beautiful storm cloud ocean eyes is so injured. It makes my heart break to see the way his broken ribs show so obviously through his skin; the way his bruises are more black and gray than any other color, and how they cover most of his torso so that his tan skin can barely be seen. Mutely Craig turns around and I see red and pink welts from what I'm willing to bet was a belt buckle. They are raised from the rest of his bruised skin. I notice that he's trembling slightly. And I cover my mouth with my hands to hold in the sobs.

How could I have missed this? Because I wasn't paying any attention to him. Putting the fag between my teeth, I get up to go over to him and examine him closer. Beneath the new bruises he has yellow-green ones, healing. His abdomen is the worst, because of where he had been beaten before. Bruises are what happens when something so violent happens to the skin that the blood vessels beneath it break.

Or something along those lines. Either way, its horrible. Beneath the welts I see old ones, but not nearly as many, not nearly as damaging. Looking at Craig with his bruises and welts and broken ribs, I think that I would probably have wanted to give up on the relationship too. The only problem with that, is that Craig wouldn't have a relationship with anyone until after he moved out and even then his father would probably still beat him because he's gay. Or for some other reason that is equally unreasonable.

"W-Why can't you feel this?" I ask quietly. His answer would worry me if I wasn't on Diamorphine, NyQuil, and whatever the fuck else I'm on. Craig goes to put his shirt back down but I stop him. I'm not done looking. And I have an urge to draw my broken lover.

"I'm on a lot of medication." Craig answers. I think I'm imagining the guilt creeping into his voice. Being mindful of the smoking American Spirit, he pulls his shirt over his head and discards it on the floor. "And I can feel it, but its tolerable." The cigarette is plucked from my mouth. He leans over to lightly kiss my lips.

While I always love his kisses, I don't feel the usual rush of blood to my dick. Fine with me, because right now I don't think either of us are really up to sex. Craig returns my cigarette to my mouth and I inhale deeply. Thankfully it calms my frayed nerves and frantic mind. "Nngh! I want to draw you."

A single nod is all I'm given as confirmation. I tell him to get comfortable so he plops down onto a beanbag chair. After rooting around for my art kit and setting up my easel I sit down at the table. Its weird trying to draw without use of both eyes, but I think I do a decent job. The first one is of him sitting shirtless and all his visible wounds. This one I use colored pencils for after inking it.

Because I want to get his back too, I tell him to find another position while I get a fresh piece of paper. Craig obeys, standing up and tucking his thumbs into his jean pockets before turning around. The result is a lovely view of the welts on his back and a melancholy attitude. As I'm starting to color, the noirette says, "That hurt." I ask him what hurt.

"Knowing that my boyfriend was high the first time we had sex." Craig doesn't move but I get the impression that he wants to shrug. "I know it shouldn't bother me, but it does." Why on Earth wouldn't that bother him? It would bother me, maybe. "It makes it seem less..."

Craig trails off but I know what he's trying to say. He's saying it makes it seem less meaningful, less real. That was exactly what I didn't want him to think. I start coloring his onyx hair while I think about what to say that might make this right. "You shouldn't be upset – ack! - because it did m-mean a lot to me. I wasn't just fucking you – grah! - because I was high and horny."

Craig gives a noise of confirmation. Since he's still shaking I do a rush coloring job. Later I can fix it. Right now I'm thinking of what I can give Craig to make him feel better. Whatever he took either isn't doing the job or is fading. "Do you want something stronger?"

The look my noirette boyfriend gives me is dark. Setting aside my art supplies, I get up and go to the window to flick ashes out it. "I know you're in – ack! - a lot of pain and I – nngh! - know you won't go to the hospital so let me help you." I move past him to my collection of DVDs and browse through them till I find the right one. Fruits Basket, the anime. I open it and hold up a small bag of weed.

There's a goofy grin on my face, I know. Its because Craig Tucker smokes weed. Getting high _with_ him will be an experience."How about some Mary Jane?" There's barely a second of hesitation before a sly smile is breaking across his normally stoic face. Taking that as a _yes_, I open up my little bag of weed.

Its been a while since I last restocked, so I only have enough for two joints. After rolling us some joints I go to my laptop and open up iTunes. Craig comes up behind me and snatches one from between my fingers. I know its my lighter he's using to light it up. The smell is delicious and makes my heart give a start. I put on _Bassnectar_, because right now I'm in love with them.

Craig is sitting on my dresser, listening to the music and bobbing his head. The joint is in his hand, resting easy between two fingers. I've never seen him so at peace and I want this to last. But I also really want to smoke, so I take my stolen lighter and inhale. The high is almost instant. Nonsense music caresses my eardrums and lifts my soul.

What a great way to end the day. _Bassnectar_ plays for a while and then it changes artists. Now we're listening to _Creature Feature_. Its a big difference in music and I'm so shocked that I fall over. Craig laughs at me. Real, true, pure, bright laughter.

The sound is better than music and I laugh with him. We bring our joints to our lips at the same time and choke on the smoke laughing. Craig gets up and I watch him sway to my bed. He's so sexy that I let out an appreciative wolf howl. Smoke is blown out my window. On my hands and knees I crawl over to him, marveling at how soft my carpet is.

"You're so sexy." I tell him as I nuzzle against his leg. I get on my knees and lap at the waist line of his jeans. "I could just eat you." And then I burst into giggles as the song says something about cannibalism. Craig is leaning back with nothing for support and I know its gotta be another one of his amazing talents like asking questions without making it sound like a question and raising one eyebrow at a time.

"You have weird taste in music." Craig replies with a grin. "I like it." He blows smoke out and I watch fascinated. My boyfriend makes everything he does sexy, especially smoking. He coughs, and even that's sexy.

I can't help but get all weird the next song. Its one of my favorites because it creeps me out so much. Without warning I tackle Craig and we go tumbling over onto the bed. I grind a few times and flash him a toothy smile. The joint in my hand is moved to my mouth and I let out my most ferocious growl. Craig growls back up at me.

"This is good weed." He tells me. I nod and grin wider but don't tell him how I got it. His blue-gray eyes stare into mine. "You would look hot with a piercing." His hand reaches up to tap my eyebrow.

I'm all smiles as I ask, "You want me to get an eyebrow piercing?" A nod is the answer I get. How would that feel? Probably a lot like injecting heroin into your arm. "Okay."

Craig laughs again and reaches up to nuzzle my neck and wrap his arms around me. "I – ack! -got a needle we c-can use." I tell him. Quickly I get up and run into my closet. After rooting around I find my little sewing kit. Then I run into my dresser.

"This is g-g-g-gonna be awesome!" Craig takes the needle and I pour rubbing alcohol onto it. Then I take another drag and sit down on my bed, perfectly still. I imagine I'm a statue. Some fierce scary gargoyle defending my territory from demons. Then Craig is pushing the needle through my skin above my right eye.

He fiddles with something and then the needle is retracted. It hardly even hurt. "Looks good, babe." I get up to go look in my mirror. There is a piercing there in my eyebrow and I gotta admit I look a lot sexier. The joint between my lips is getting dangerously small.

Suddenly I want more piercings. "Do more! Teach – gah! - me how to!" To my surprise Craig pulls out a plastic baggie from his pocket. Its not full of weed, but rather body piercings and needles. Why the fuck does he have these?

He must have known I would want some! "Where do you want it?" With that simple question we get started. My eyebrow is done once more and then another one on my left eyebrow. I get one through my collarbone, which is a trip in itself, and pierce both my ears from bottom to top. Craig gives me snake bite piercings and does my tongue.

When I'm pleasantly burning and numb, Craig hands me the needle. He turns his head. "Do my ear." I do Craig's ear and its easier than I thought it would be. He inhales the last of his joint. Mine has been gone a while.

Craig lets me do his ear and then I move to his nipple and he doesn't stop me. When that's done, I do the other one. Then decide I want my bellybutton pierced and do that one myself. Its just like getting my ears pierced. Craig is sitting back, smiling, baked, happy. I get in his face and smell the weed on his breath.

"Can I pierce your – nngh! - dick?" The thought makes me wince and I retract my statement. Craig looks relieved. I kiss him and think about dick piercings. That would be hot, wouldn't it? I glance down at his nipple piercings and decide that those are good enough for now.


	9. Traveling Through Space

I lean against Craig as we stand in line for a coffee from Harbucks. Coffee is another one of those things that I need and haven't gotten in forever. The high from last night ended sometime around four in the morning and we got major munchies so sleep just didn't happen. Neither of us has said anything about our piercings but we both keep touching them, as though the dull burning sensation isn't enough to remind us that they are there. We also haven't talked about me screaming at Craig I hate him – which for me is just a ghost of a memory – and I know its going to come up eventually. For now, there's been a strange sort of peace and we're both acting like it never happened.

What Kenny said about us saying the L word to each other, I really want that to happen. Because of my fuck up it seems like its never going to happen though. But Kenny knows everything so I'm hoping patience will get me what I want. What I hope Craig wants too. When we get up to the counter Bebe smiles at me. "You two are so cute, Tweekers."

She says as though I don't have at least ten visible pieces of metal sticking out of my skin on my face. Her shirt is at a normal level on her chest so I figure she isn't aching for money. I smile back as Craig wraps an arm around my waist. "The usual?" She asks and I nod. Craig orders his stupid hot chocolate and we go to a booth.

As we sit down I ask, "What day is – gah! - it?" Craig flips open his phone to look. Then shows it to me. Friday. As if that means a whole lot to me. I tell him this.

"Its a holiday, we don't have school today." Bebe returns with our drinks and is still smiling like the world is right. She doesn't leave and its making me twitch. But I reach out and start drinking my black coffee anyways. Finally Craig asks, "What are you smiling about."

To me she says, "You're looking a lot better today Tweekers, I was worried about you." Her voice leaks her emotions and concern. Then it changes to a happier note. "And I dig the bellybutton ring. You ever want to go piercing shopping, you call me up sweetie."

With a wink Bebe walks away, hips swaying and blonde curls bouncing. As I take another sip of coffee, Craig's gray-blue eyes turn dark. "Whats under there." Following his eyes I see him looking at the new bandage on my arm. The one from the stove burns. Not surprising he just now noticed it.

Not looking him in the eye, I answer, "I burned it cooking ramen." The same day I stabbed myself in the eye with a mascara brush and went blind. The same day that I overdosed on Diamorphine and didn't wake up for three days. But I don't tell him this because I don't want him to worry. And I don't want mom to get in trouble.

Strange how I have to consciously think that now instead of just having it come to me. Craig's eyes narrow and they are the thrashing ocean waves made by an angry god. "I want to see." I blink, hoping he doesn't mean right now. To be honest I haven't looked at any of my wounds since before I went to sleep for three days. "Later."

He elaborates. I nod because what other choice do I have? "How are your ribs?" I ask curiously. Craig doesn't look at me as he shrugs. His eyes are glued to his hot chocolate.

I sense that there's shame in letting his father beat him. If you can call it letting. I'm sure that unlike me, Craig fights back. The only reason he might not is because of his little sister Ruby. My phone vibrates at that moment. As usual, its Kenny inviting me to something or another.

_Party the graveyard 2nite 9. Wanna cum?_

Why must he spell _come_ as _cum_? It used to excite me when he was coming over for a fuck and would tell me using improper spelling, but now it doesn't. I look up at Craig. "You wanna g-go to a party?" I glance down at my phone again when another txt makes it vibrate. Its from Kenny again.

_Wear sumthin sexy. ;p_

"Sexy? I don't own – gah! - anything sexy." I mumble with a frown. Craig is looking at me and doing that thing where he raises only one ebony eyebrow. I sigh. "Ken says to wear something s-sexy."

It occurs to me that if we go this will be our second official date and it will also be started by Kenny. One of these days Craig Tucker is going to have to ask me out on a proper date. Then I wonder where the hell_ that_ thought came from. "You want to go on a date with our injuries." Craig asks. I nod because it sounds like it might be fun even though I'm pretty sure it won't be.

A party at the graveyard hosted by the Freaky Four is bound to be exciting. Sincerely I hope they don't try to sacrifice us to raise the dead or something insane like that. "I guess we'll have to go shopping." Craig sighs as he pulls out his phone. I'm about to ask him what he's doing and why we need to shop, but he beats me to it. "I don't have anything sexy and I'm broke so I'm going to ask Token to take us out."

Ah, yes, Token. I haven't spoken to him or Clyde since they told me that Craig was having issues. Craig looks up at the ceiling while he makes the call. "Hey man. Yeah, I'm bringing Tweek with me. You wanna hook us up with something to wear?"

By the satisfied noise he makes, I'm guessing that Token agreed. Looking at me again, Craig says, "He'll be in ten minutes." And takes another sip of his hot chocolate. I still can't get over how Craig buys fucking _hot chocolate _in a _coffee shop_. To each their own, I guess.

Ten minutes later Token arrives driving a purple convertible. Rich people, I think to myself. I bet Token hasn't wanted for anything a day in his life and I bet his parents are good to him. But I don't hold it against him because Token isn't the kind of guy that you hold shit against. Craig gets in the front seat and I get in the back, sitting in the middle because I've heard its the safest place to sit. "Hey Tweek, Craig."

I mumble a greeting. Token turns his attention to Craig and they start talking about what they want to get and where they are getting it from. Apparently they think I have no style whatsoever because they don't bother asking me my opinion. Granted nothing ever really fits me, but I sometimes like to think I don't like total shit. We pull in front of an expensive-looking clothing store. A vague memory of shopping here for clothes when I was a metrosexual comes to mind.

That was one of the few times I socially hung out with Craig instead of just happening to be in the same place he was at. Craig had actually sought me out to be in his little faggy clique. He told me that I was perfect for being the fourth member of their group. Now that I think of it, Craig was telling me that I was a flaming fucking faggot. "I am not a flaming fucking faggot!" I yell in protest.

At least I wasn't then. Craig and Token both look back at me. Token looks amused. Craig's gray-blue eyes are amused too. "Because taking it up the ass means you aren't a flaming fucking faggot." Craig says, his voice about as amused as it can get.

I open then close my mouth. How can I argue with logic like that? "I do not need to know about your sex life." Token says with a small smile. "But what brought that up, Tweek?" The self-loathing part of me can't believe that Token is being polite.

The concept is just so foreign that I go into shock and awe at kindness. "Third grade when w-we were all metrosexual." I explain. "Craig asked me to – nngh! - join you guys, said I would be perfect." _Craig Tucker said I would be perfect._ Who knew that we would end up together?

Maybe it was a sign. Token laughs out loud, probably remembering us all wearing matching pink outfits. It was the one time my hair behaved. "Why are you thinking of that." Craig asks. Then he shakes his head like he doesn't want to know the answer.

Token leads us around the store, piling clothes into our arms. Most of this stuff I don't think I would ever wear, let alone out in public. We're ushered into the dressing room while Token goes and shops for himself. As I'm trying to tug down a black miniskirt so that it covers my ass and dick, I call over the top of the dressing room wall at Craig, "I don't – gah! - think Token knows what he's doing." Suddenly the noir's head pops over the side.

I shriek and stumble against the far wall. "If you get that you're only wearing it for me." Craig replies. My face turns crimson. The noir disappears and I hurry to get the skirt off me. Token was thorough in his getting us clothes, since I'm seeing some underwear in the pile.

After riffling through it I finally find something acceptable. A pair of black shorts that go to mid thigh, a green long-sleeve v-neck shirt, and a silver vest. There's even a pair of black panties – which are a thousand times better than the lacy thongs – that I decide to wear since my boxers won't look good with it. Honestly I can't help but think this would look better if I had breasts. This coming from a guy who is repulsed by the idea of sex with a woman. As I'm looking at myself in the mirror I think its a good thing I shave – my legs, arms, armpits, ect – otherwise this would look really weird.

The bandages on my arms stick out a bit too much with my sleeves rolled up like they are, and you can see the bruises and hickies on my chest clearly because of the v-neck. I'm about to go out in public like this. "Are you done." Craig calls from over the stall wall. I tell him yes. "Well come out so I can see you."

After taking a deep breath – I don't know what I'm nervous about, Craig has seen me naked before – I unlock the changing stall and step out. The first thing I notice, which immediately sets me at ease, are Craig's bruises out in the open. Then I see that he's wear a long-sleeve gray shirt that leaves his abdomen exposed, and a pair of attractive black skinny jeans. Frankly, my boyfriend is hot. His intense silver-blue eyes look me up and down. "You look sexy."

I blush but smile because I secretly think so too. "So do you." I reply with a small smile. The noirette pulls me into a hug. "Are – gah! - you sure you want to go wearing _that_?" I murmur against his collarbone.

When Craig nods I think he's doing it because he secretly wants someone to arrest his father. Unlike me, trying to keep all of my bruises covered. Even though I still have the excuse of fighting Kyle. Token appears suddenly from out of nowhere and smiles when he sees us. I notice his dark eyes not looking at Craig's obvious bruises. "You guys look great!"

His dark skin contrasts his shiny white teeth as he smiles. "Lets go!" The noirette with dreadlocks turns and walks away. I scramble to pick up my clothes and wonder if we're going to steal this stuff. Craig follows him, clothes dangling over one arm, the other resting on my shoulders. As we get closer to the exit I stop.

"Aren't we going to buy this stuff?" I blurt out. Well, if we were shoplifting I've gone and ruined it now. Honestly I'm kind of wondering when I grew a conscious about this kind of thing. But it seems like it would be obvious it was us. Surely we would be caught.

Token smiles again. "My family owns this store, Tweek. Everything is already paid for." My jaw drops. Token _owns _this store? Wow.

"We're hanging out with you until the party." Craig informs the black-skinned teenager. This wasn't something I was aware of. Mom is MIA so I don't even worry about calling her and dad is at work. I don't think they would even notice I was gone. Except the house might be quieter.

"Clyde is over." Token informs us. Craig says something about leaving Clyde alone and fire but I tune them out. I actually do like my new outfit. Even if I'm not entirely sure its as sexy as Kenny meant it to be. Whatever, it looks good on me and that's all that matters.

When we arrive at Token's place parking in the ridiculously long driveway, I find that Clyde is in fact at Token's mansion. I feel it important to note that the mansion was not smoking or on fire or just a giant pile of ash. The brunette rushes out, tears in his eyes, arms extended. His arms crush Craig as he wails something about not seeing his honey in forever. I notice Craig wince but he doesn't protest the one-sided hug. Poor Craig; his ribs must be killing him.

Clyde releases my noirette and turns to me. When he sees my eye whatever he was going to say comes out as _uuhhh..._. The brunette takes a step back and looks me over and unlike Craig I know he isn't checking out my clothes. "Y-you..." Token elbows the chubby brunette in the ribs. "You got a few piercings."

Clyde finishes lamely. Oh yeah, I did, didn't I? I just shrug instead of addressing the elephant in the room, so to speak. Then the brunette's brown eyes look at Craig and he winces. "Toke, I gotta be honest. You two look so fucked up."

Craig rolls his eyes. "Thanks asshole." His arm wraps around my shoulders. "We're fine." Then they lock eyes and stare at each other for a few minutes. I feel like they are communicating mentally or some crazy shit like that.

Finally Clyde nods. "Okay dude." He turns to me and grins. "I really like your piercings. Got any more I can't see?" To his surprise I lift up my shirt to show of the one on my navel.

Token sighs but he's smiling as he leads us into his mansion. Everyone has been in Token's house at one point or another, but I find its a lot nicer without a bunch of sweaty bodies passing around drugs and grinding on you. "So Tweek, I'm not complaining or anything, but why are you wearing a dress?" This is a dress? I look down. Its a little long, but I just thought it was too big or something.

My face turns pink. "Because he's so hot he can pull off a dress better than anyone else." Token answers for me. I'm not sure if that's a compliment but Token still has this air around him that makes me unable to be angry with him. Maybe its some kind of voodoo magic. As I think this the black-skinned teen turns around to smile at me.

Thoroughly creeped out, I struggle closer to Craig. It nearly throws us off balance but he throws a hand against the wall to catch us before we fall. Token takes us to his cinema – yes, the rich kid has a _fucking movie theatre in his house_ – which is all done up in Halloween gear even though its November. "We're going to watch a bunch of Tim Burton-Esq movies." Token explains. I guess they really want to get into the graveyard spirit.

Being a fan of Tim Burton's creepy movies, I have no objection. "Corpse Bride, Coraline, Beetlejuice, The Nightmare Before Christmas, Sweeney Todd, Alice In Wonderland, Edward Scissorhands." Craig reads off a list of DVD options that has shown up on the screen. "I doubt we have time for all of these so we should save Sweeney Todd and Alice In Wonderland for last." Clyde starts making popcorn while Token gets himself a fountain soda. Craig and I sit down in the middle. Apparently he knows about sitting in the front seat and how it hurts the back and neck.

Neither of them argue with him. Why would they? Craig seems to be something of a movie expert. We watch Coraline first, reasoning that we should do this by date. The Cat from Coraline fascinates me to no end. I wonder what it would be like to slip between worlds seemingly without trying.

Next is Corpse Bride, which I find to be somewhat depressing. The world of the living is dreary while the world of the dead is exciting and lively. It was probably done on purpose. If I was Victor I probably would have killed myself so I could be with the Corpse Bride. Then again, I probably _would_ be the Corpse Bride in this scenario. Craig could be my Victor.

With a frown I wonder who Craig's Victoria would be – the person Victor ultimately gets with. We stop between movies for a bathroom break. I get a fountain drink because I enjoy caffeine and there surprisingly isn't any coffee. There's some debate over whether we should watch The Nightmare Before Christmas or Beetlejuice next, but Craig's argument about sticking with claymation decides it. During the movie I peek over at Craig and notice his lips moving. It only takes a second to realize that he's saying the lines with the characters.

I wonder if he's been doing this with all the movies. My noirette notices me looking at him and holds my hand then returns his attention to the movie. His lips continue to move with the characters on screen. I smile and watch as Jack goes through the trees to discover the Christmas Land. How scary it must be to discover an entirely new world. Jack is very brave, I think.

Next comes Beetlejuice, which I honestly think is the scariest one of all. Even with its crappy animation, it freaks me out. The dead people, the living people, Beetlejuice. The only nonthreatening one is Lydia, and she gets scary at the end in her stupid school uniform. During the entire movie I cling to Craig's arm, dig my nails into the gray shirt he's wearing. A few times after I jump, the noir plants a kiss on my forehead but I can always feel his lips silently reciting verses.

The last movie we watch is Edward Scissorhands. This one breaks my heart and creeps me out all at the same time. I can only imagine how horrible it must be to be Edward. The neighborhood with its perfectness and strange women creep me out. This just reinforces my love of men. But damn, Edward sure is sexy in that outfit.

As the credits roll across the screen Token gets up and turns on the lights. Clyde starts chattering excitedly about something or another. Craig gets up and stretches nonchalantly. I quickly follow him into the main room. "We have half an hour to kill." Craig comments.

Clyde grin and rushes down a hallway. Slower, we follow him. I feel lost in this beautiful place but its clear that Craig has wandered these halls frequently. "You better have munchies for us later." Craig's comment and Clyde's grin don't click until we get to Token's room and I see the bong. So much for trying to stay sober.

I'm almost surprised that Token partakes, but on the other hand it seems natural. The black teenager is a mystery to me. "Hey Tweek, you wanna get _high_?" Clyde asks with a grin. "Toke has the _best shit ever_." He moans the last three words.

I nod quickly. "Fuck – nngh! - yeah!" Clyde gives me the bong and I'm honored that I get first hit. "No way i-in Hell am I going to a – grah! - party hosted by _those four_ sober." Then as they are laughing I take my first hit. After my lungs are full of smoke I pass it on to Craig.

Whatever is in this magical little bong isn't weed. At least, its not _just_ weed. How do I know? Well, aside from being a drug addict in my spare time – which is all the time – I'm also not feeling the high. The bong is passed back to me. When I fill my lungs again I _feel _it.

I'm ascending up to the roof. I break into a thousand pieces and slip through all the cracks in the roof. Then I reassemble in the sky and just keep going up. I see South Park and I'm so high everything looks like toys. I break through the atmosphere and am floating in cold, dark space. Sometimes I see stars blinking in and out of existence.

Once I see the sun. Its brilliant and large. The reds, yellows, and oranges are in their purest form, constantly dancing and blending with each other. Surprisingly the heat isn't overwhelming, but nice and toasty like the satisfied feeling after having sex with Craig. I grow larger than the sun and cup it in my hands. Black envelopes me.

Tiny rays of sunlight shine through the cracks between my fingers. Warmth turns to heat and I release the sun. It turns deep violets and blues, bright purples and aquas. My skin lights up in swirly patterns that remind me of tattoos I might get in another lifetime. The scene changes to the hill from the Nightmare Before Christmas and there is Craig, dressed in Jack's suit. Looking down I see I'm dressed in Sally's patchwork dress.

Craig holds his hand out to me and I take it. He pulls me to him and kisses me hard. Suddenly something wiggles into my mouth and when I open my eyes I see black tentacles coming from a blonde's back. Kenny's mouth opens impossibly wide – the only feature on his white face – and he sticks out a long gray pointed tongue. I stumble back and run away, leaping on stars that blink out of existence after my feet leave them. I travel through space and the strange Kenny doesn't follow me.

Then the stars start to blink rainbow colors. They shoot through the black sky in a million chaotic rainbows. I feel something manipulating my heartbeat. A breeze sways my body. Craig dances in and out of my view – wearing the new clothes we got earlier today - hidden by the lights and the transparent gray bodies around us. As I start towards him Sally's dress disintegrates and I'm wearing my new clothes again.

Before I reach him blood rains down on me. It tastes sugary. I lap at the red with my tongue but it never seems to end. Too bad I don't have a straw. When I look up again there is Craig, reaching out to embrace me. The stickiness on me clings to his skin too and wraps around us like a spider's web.

I laugh. Craig smells like cigarettes and cherries and cologne. I love it. His eyes look more silver than blue. The silver irises melt from his eyeballs and roll down his cheeks, leaving the eyes white with a dark pupil in the center. Craig's lips move and I swear he's saying _Baby, why'd you leave me?_

I open my mouth to tell him that _I'm right here_. But before I can say anything I'm snatched away by a dark-skinned voodoo man with a skull painted on his face. His dreadlocks move as though alive and he throws back his head and laughs. His white teeth are pointed like fangs. The boogeyman clasps the voodoo doctor on the back and when he opens his mouth insects fall out. I try to scream but no sound comes out.

Then I'm running away again. A tree comes to life and its exposed root trips me. I fall down in space; fall and fall and fall. When I finally hit bottom I look up to see a soldier with glowing yellow-green-red eyes holding a shovel in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Behind him broken bloodied wings hover. The soldier raises the shovel over his head and I just know he's going to stab me.

Then Craig is back, shoving the soldier out of the way. His sleeve extends and when I wrap my fingers around the gray material I'm lifted up. It takes just as long to get up as it did to fall but Craig waits for me the entire time. When I'm on my feet we take off, running across gray lily pads that sometimes light up from the stars and fireworks. Water ripples with each step we take. Looking back I see the voodoo witch doctor, boogeyman, SlenderKenny, and the soldier standing watching us.

We run into Christmas Land where it snows. We run up the stairs into the dusty library in the Land of the Dead. We run through universes where we're either hunted or ignored. Finally we're back in space. This space is quiet and dark and I get the feeling we're underwater. Craig turns to face me without letting go of my hand.

Together we watch the sticky red spider weave her web around us. My noirette kisses me. It starts to snow but on the inside I'm hot. Something wet drips down my cheeks. "_I love you._" I think at him.

Craig kisses me again. He stares me right in the eye when he thinks back, "_I love you too_." We kiss until it hurts and then we kiss again. Buttons appear on my shirt and undo themselves. Gray sleeves caress my skin. Craig's pants come off, showing nothing but bare skin beneath.

Those mischievous sleeves pull mine off. I forgot I was wearing black lace panties. While his sleeves work magic, trailing heat and electricity everywhere they go, Craig lowers his head. I feel his tongue press against the front of the thin black material. He nips, licks, nuzzles, kisses me until I open my mouth and drown in the water that's surrounding us. His mouth is on mine then, and I can breathe again, and I feel him pressing against me.

The sugary spider weaves her red web around and around us. We're connected by this red string and then by more. Connected, together, one, we dance. Slow, sure, steady, comforting motions. I wrap my arms around his neck and Craig wraps his around my waist. Unhindered by gravity, we switch positions so that I'm sitting on his lap and we're still connected.

Craig's heart beats against mine. I can feel it inside of me, flowing through my being. Our hearts beat in sync. Our minds are on the same wave length. Finally we tune into the same station on the stereo. We become one person, neither Craig Tucker nor Tweek Tweak.


	10. Graveyards & Wine

This is the last chapter of I'm Begging For Mercy Part One. After this there are two more Parts, the next is in Craig's POV. I'm not providing a link here so you'll just have to find it in my gallery or whatever they call it here. I hope you've enjoyed Part One and will come back to read Two and Three. Thank you very much for all of the reviews, I really appreciate them and actually check my inbox several times a day to see if I've gotten any new ones.

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><p>If you think its astounding getting home drunk without getting in an accident then you've never tried to get home high going through space water. If I'm honest, I don't remember how I got home or when. I couldn't tell you if I walked or if I got a ride or if the sun was coming up or if it was still dark. All I know is that my new outfit was still all there and that Craig was with me the entire time. When I woke up I was surprised that I <em>didn't<em> have a headache. The next thing I notice, aside from my lack of headache, is that Craig and I aren't alone.

Sitting up I see Token and Clyde lying on the floor in a pile of blankets and pillows. Clyde is stretched out over a beanbag chair, mouth wide open, snoring. I have a brief image of insects crawling out of his mouth but its gone as soon as it comes. Contrary, Token is curled up among the blankets and pillows, looking a little askew but still handsome in his own way. When I blink I swear that I see white makeup on his face, decorating it like a skull. But like the bugs coming from Clyde's mouth the vision disappears before long.

My movement wakes up Craig, who lets out a small moan. What kind of drugs did we take last night? They were amazing and kind of scary. I wonder who the soldier was. Well, if Clyde was the boogeyman and Token was the voodoo man then it stands to reason that Christophe was the soldier. Why the fuck was Christophe trying to kill me?

The noirette sits up beside me and we stare at his sleeping friends. "Do you remember last night." he asks me. I nod slowly. "So you remember Christophe trying to kill you." I stare at him.

"You – gah! - mean he r-really tried to kill – gah! - me?" I'm shocked because I've never done anything to hurt or insult the scary brunette. Craig hesitates then shrugs. "What did we take?" Like I've said, I've done pretty much everything under the sun. This must be a new drug or something.

"Token told me later that he wasn't trying to kill you, apparently he was just going to help you up." I stare at him blankly. "You fell into an open grave, Tweekers." When Craig uses my nickname my heart leaps. "The drug was something imported from Jamaica. It was distributed through the party for the first time."

"But you've used it before." I ask to confirm my suspicion. Craig didn't seem the slightest surprise at the bong and Clyde said that Token had the best shit ever. Not to my surprise the noir nods his head. "Huh. I – gah – was an astronaut."

For some reason this makes Craig smile one of his small smiles. Then he turns serious. "When you take that drug the first time, Moon Dust, it fucks with your memory. The first time I took it is a big blank in my head from the first hit to after I came down. I wasn't sure you would remember what happened." My jaw drops.

I've never really had a day that I _can't _remember. No matter how many drugs I take in whatever combination, I always remember what I did and what everyone else did too. To have a blank spot in my memory would terrify me. "Maybe you should – argh! - tell me, just in – nngh! - case." I say, wondering what _exactly_ happened. Just because I remember the trip doesn't mean I had any idea what was going on during it.

A yawn comes from my floor. "I think I'd better fill you in on some of the finer details." Token says, his voice not slurred with sleep. "We hung out at my house and you kinda laid there with your mouth wide open. Then we got in the car and drove around until it was time for the party. Craig was trying to make out with you the entire time."

Token gives Craig a goodhearted glare. "Yeah then when we got there McCormick came up and tried to make out with you." I can tell that my boyfriend is bristling. "They turned on the lights and strobes and music and shit." That explains the rainbow shooting stars and my weird heartbeat. "We were dancing for a while – separated – then I found you but before I got to you some asshole poured a bowl of punch on you."

So that wasn't blood. Suddenly it makes sense. I can tell that Craig wants to say something else but Token juts in "Then I stole you away for a dance but you freaked out when Clyde showed up." Craig throws a pillow at the dark-skinned teen. Token laughs again.

I can see what they are describing being played out in my head. My high experiences line up with what they are saying. I follow through the events, watching myself trip on a tree root and fall into the open grave. "Then I-I fell into that grave, didn't I?" Both of them sober up and Craig nods. "Was Christophe trying to kill me?"

Token shakes his head. "After Craig shoved him over, got you out of that hole, and ran off with you Christophe found me and asked what _ze fuck zat was about_." I sense that Token isn't telling me something when he continues, "Anyway, you two took off running on the fucking headstones and shit." He laughs and I feel my face heating up. Headstones, lily pads, whats the difference really?

Craig continues, "When we ran away it started snowing. We went all the way to Starks Pond. You told me you love me and we had sex." I can't believe he just said that in front of Token! My _I love you_ was just for Craig's ears.

"Wait, you m-mean that wasn't – ack! - in my head?" The expression in Craig's eyes tells me it wasn't. Then I remember that his eye color melted. "What happened to – nngh! - your eyes? The color melted o-out of them!"Craig is giving me a look that tells me that he has no idea what I'm talking about.

Maybe I did really make that part up. Somehow I doubt it. Later I'll ask Craig about it. "You had some crazy hallucinations, Tweek." Token says with a laugh. Outside my door the floor creaks.

The sound reminds me of my parents. I wonder if they know about this unplanned sleepover. Oh no what if mom is having one of her days again? Suddenly there's a knock on my door. I shriek and the sound wakes up Clyde, who more falls off the beanbag than anything. "Son?"

Wow, dad actually called me son. Everyone in the room is frozen, looking at the door. Its like we're doing something wrong, but we aren't. "Your mother made peach waffles and sausage for you and your friends." There's a pause then, "And I made coffee."

"O-Okay. GAH!" I hear dad walking away. We sit looking at each other for a few minutes in silence until Clyde bursts out laughing. Why he's laughing is beyond me. Both noirettes in the room roll their eyes.

I get the feeling there is a lot of eye rolling in this trio. Craig looks at me. "Any comments on her peach pancakes?" He asks me, using code for _we aren't going to die if we eat these are we? _Quickly I shake m head no. Her peach pancakes are safe.

"Your mom is cool." Clyde so naively comments. Neither Craig nor I correct him. "Not like my bitch mom." His voice changes to a higher pitch. "_Clyde, how many times do I have to tell you to put down the toilet seat?_".

"Didn't your mom – nngh! - fucking die of that?" I ask cautiously. Clyde shrugs. At least he has the decency to look a little guilty. When we finally haul ourselves out of bed I see that Craig is more or less undressed. I hope he didn't lose that cool sweater thing.

My face heats up at the thought of it pulling off my shorts. Craig's eyes are curious when he looks at me but he doesn't ask why I'm changing colors. He looks around and picks up the gray shirt off my floor, slipping it on over his head with a quiet groan. Three pairs of eyes are watching him, looking at his bruises and broken ribs. None of us says anything. Really, what is there to say?

Before I leave my room I grab my smokes and Craig's lighter with its _fuck you_ carved into the side. Into my pocket they go. Craig kisses my temple on the way downstairs. Token and Clyde are already sitting at the table, Clyde stuffing his mouth full of sweets and Token thanking my mother. I'm relieved to see that she doesn't look insane today, and is actually quite pretty. She's positively glowing at all of the company.

It occurs to me that she might not be so crazy if I have people over more often so I make a mental note to do so. I sit down in my place and Craig in his. "Good morning, sweetie!" Mom greets me. I mumble a morning, sounding like I have a hangover but not feeling it. "Did you boys have fun last night?"

Her knowing about the graveyard party makes me nervous. I look into her eyes but there is no special gleam of madness. Could it be a normal question? "Yes, Mrs. Tweak. We had a blast." Clyde answers for us between bites.

Mom smiles cheerfully and dances out of the kitchen. Dad pours us coffee then leaves with a small smile, saying that he's going to _give the world that first cup of Tweak Bros coffee to start of their afternoon the right way._ Sometimes I think my parents are total nut jobs. "So what are we doing today?" Token asks over a steaming mug of coffee. His dark eyes are on my noirette.

Craig doesn't answer. I think he wants to shrug but that would probably hurt too much. Maybe I should get him high again. My own wounds hurting reinforce this thought. But I don't want to take more Moon Dust. This time I want to know what insane shit I'm doing even if it means a hangover.

I stare at the refrigerator. "We could get – ack! - d-drunk." All three of them look at me with different expressions. Craig's is stony and unreadable. Token's is concerned. Clyde's is eager.

Once again Token glances at Craig. Its only following his gaze to my boyfriend that I realize I may have made a mistake asking them to get drunk. Clyde stands up. "I'll get drunk with you Tweek." I nod and watch as he goes to the fridge. "Uh, all you have is not liquor."

"Y-You mean we're out of Baileys?" I get up to look and sure enough there is no Baileys. How disappointing. Barely hesitating I go to the garage to retrieve a bottle of wine. I've never actually drank wine before. For all I know this is going to taste like shit (not that the stuff I drink tastes much better).

We will soon see if this will be a waste of time. I get out mom's wine glasses, the ones with the vines etched in their sides. When she isn't going crazy, mom has a thing for collecting pretty dishes. I worry that one day one of us will break all of them. Token and I are watching Craig's reaction to the alcohol but his face and eyes remain indifferent. With shaking hands I pour us all a full glass.

Clyde drinks first, taking a huge gulp. Token holds the glass in his hand and swirls the red liquid a bit before sipping it. Craig stares at the wine then sighs and takes a sip. I'm the last to drink. When it hits my taste buds I wonder why anyone wouldn't want to drink this. Wine is delicious!

It must show on my face because Craig is raising an eyebrow at me. "I've never had – nngh! - wine." I explain. Token looks vaguely surprised. "How much does – gah! - it take to get drunk?" Because I want Craig so drunk he doesn't feel any pain.

Of course if I wanted that I could have also found some Angel Dust to give him. That would take longer since I'm not much of an Angel partaker. I would have to drive to Denver after calling my _dealers/fuck buddies _to see if they have any and if they did then I would have to fuck them. If they didn't they would give me a list of numbers to call of people who _do_ have the drug and then I would have to arrange some sort of pay. Basically, it doesn't seem even a little bit worth it. Not when we can drink wine.

Token smiles. "It takes me a while, but I've built up a tolerance. Clyde gets drunk after his first glass. And Craig doesn't change much even when he is drunk. Of course he doesn't partake very often." Meaning hardly ever.

I nod and walk out of the kitchen to sit on the couch because I believe that wine is not a kitchen beverage. The bottle comes with me to the couch and I nestle it between my legs. The other three follow me out and arrange themselves on the furniture. Craig sits beside me on the couch. He's strangely quiet and it bothers me a little but I try to ignore it. This is for him, after all.

We're pretty much silent the first round. Come the second round Clyde's face is flushed as he sings _Under The Sea_. Token and Craig have locked eyes and the bottle is passed silently between them. I think they're trying to see who can get drunk first. Or something. While all this is going on I just snatch the bottle a few times to refill my glass.

I'm feeling a low buzz. Not nearly as high as I want it to be. If I'm feeling this what must they be feeling? Probably something a little higher. I doubt they partake enough to have to be _super wasted_ before achieving a high or buzz that is satisfying. "We should do – ack! - something."

"We could do karaoke." Token suggests. We glance at Clyde who is standing up now, singing his heart out. I don't recognize the song. "Clyde seems to agree." The black-skinned teenager comments since Clyde is lost in his own little world.

We all agree – minus Clyde, who just stumbles when we drag him to Token's convertible – and decide to do it at Token's mansion instead of in public. Apparently we're not that high, as to go out in public and sing stupid songs in out of tone voices. None of us asks if Token should be driving. He drives like a pro after drinking, which makes me wonder if he was the one who took me home last night. I lean against Craig and he wraps an arm around me. Thankfully we don't get pulled over even though we do pass several cops.

My record is clean and I want to keep it that way. On the way there we pass the graveyard. I feel an inexplicable pull towards it. Fuck, I hope I'm not turning Goth. We go into Token's living room – one of them – and he turns on the TV. I sit on the back of the couch while our host sets it up.

Then I'm handed a microphone. "What do you want to sing?" I shrug. To be honest I haven't thought a bit. Am I even dressed? Looking down I see that I am.

Good. In my head I go over a list of songs I could sing. Finally I end up on _Protege Moi_ by _Placebo_. I tell Token to look up the instrumentals and when the music starts I start singing. Yes, I'm singing buzzed in French. But I like this song and I know it in both English and French so it works. When I sing I'm glad that Clyde has shut up.

Singing makes me nervous. I'm not good at it. Not that I'm bad, either. Except for my tic of screaming in the middle of a sentence and sometimes stuttering. Even though I'm buzzed it still sucks. High or drunk all the time, remember?

What am I like sober? A total wreck. I finish up the song and find my place back on the couch. Token brought out more wine for us so I pour myself more. This has a stronger, sweeter taste. It reminds me of raspberries.

Clyde goes next, singing another Disney song – this one is _Dalmatian Plantation_ that's at the end of_ 101 Dalmatians_. Token gets in a song after that. Its some old jazzy song that fits well with his deep voice. Clyde goes again, singing _I Just Can't Wait To Be King _from _The Lion King_. Then Craig gets up and sings something sad in what I think is Spanish. Surprisingly, Craig's voice isn't too bad when he sings.

Clyde goes up again. I really need to pee so I leave them to find the bathroom. No one notices I'm gone. At least I thought so. When I walk out of the bathroom I see Craig staring down at me. "Lets get out of here."

Furiously I nod because wherever I'm going with Craig will be better than listening to Clyde's horrible voice singing Disney songs. We start the walk to wherever. Its in the direction of my house but instead of going to my house we stop in front of the graveyard. Without speaking we cross through the gates hand in hand. Its nicer but scarier without people and music and lights here. We walk among the tombstones.

"Were you crying?" I ask quietly, as though afraid of waking the dead. "Last night." My mouth tugs down in a frown. The color leaking out of Craig's eyes must have been him crying. Craig squeezes my hand.

"No." He sighs. "I don't like being in the graveyard with you." I look at him, waiting for an explanation. Craig doesn't give one; all he says is, "That's why I dragged you away."

I think about this for a minute. We turn to walk down the next row of graves. It disturbs me a little to know I'm walking all over dead people. To know that they could reach through the grass and tug me under. "Am I going to die?" Craig tells me that's a stupid question and I just look at him until he gives me a better answer.

"Eventually you'll die. I hope its not for a long time." His eyes are anxious pools of silvery blue. "It feels like if you're here too long, you'll be dragged into one of the graves." My boyfriend doesn't need to add that he was terrified when I fell into the open grave the other night – I can see the fear in his gorgeous eyes. The graveyard and the dead within it are already expecting me to join them soon.

We weave through the graveyard, one row at a time. The sky overhead turns white and yellow and gray with snow clouds. When it starts snowing we just sit underneath a willow tree that seems to be untouched by the dead. Craig holds me to his chest and I hear it pounding loudly. "I love you Craig." Because I want to say it again before I die.

What Craig said is true – it feels like I'm going to die if I stay here too long. Already I can feel my soul being sucked from my body and imagine the dead turning in their coffins as they welcome it. "I love you too, Tweek." After a few minutes of silence, Craig murmurs, "You were crying." I shiver in his arms.

"I – nngh – don't know why." There could be a thousand reasons. Craig nods against my head. "When I die will you bury me here?" Its a morbid question for sure, but I like this spot. I can see myself spending eternity here.

Heaven and Hell aren't for me. "What makes you think you're going to die before me." But we both know. So wordlessly the noirette nods. As a _thank you_ I kiss him softly on the lips. The cold wind sighs against us.

Gold eyes stare into silver-blue and we simultaneously decide to leave. Leave before my soul is lost to both of us. Suddenly I don't feel very buzzed or high or anything. I'm just cold on the inside. Clutching my boyfriend's arm I lean against him and close my eyes. _Have mercy on us please._


End file.
